Angel Experiment
by TheSaxman
Summary: Everybody's a bird person. Well, everybody except Sora. And the Organization. Who am I kidding, I don't know what I'm talking about. Read at your own peril, my friends.
1. Prologue

_- Prologue -_

So for one reason or another, you've decided to click on the little link that brought you here. Good for you. Now you'll know how to pick up the pieces when the world comes crashing down around you. I know, I sound like some kind of tinfoil hat-wearing nut-job preaching about Armageddon on the streets of Philadelphia. But I'm being absolutely, one hundred percent serious.

Maybe you were just bored and felt like cruising around the Internet. Fair enough. I'd do the same if I had access to a computer from this decade that doesn't use dial-up. Sadly, that's not the case.

Perhaps you were searching for some good ol' fashioned boy-on-boy, yaoi-fueled action. If that's the case, I advise you to turn around now. And to gouge out your eyes with a spork. There will be none of that here, not on my watch.

Maybe you found a certain dashing, silver-haired boy's blog. I think he has a link to this little project of mine from there. That seems like far more likely a scenario; for one reason or another, people seem to care a little too much about Riku's thoughts and feelings. Enough so that he has a blog with more mindless followers right now than the US treasury has dollars. Which isn't saying much, but dammit just go with it, I'm trying to be funny.

For the record, he's really not that interesting, ladies. He's not even single, so you might as well go talk to boys you have an actual chance in hell with.

Or girls, I mean, whichever you prefer. If that's the case, send pictures. If they're good enough to live up to my oh-so-high standards, maybe I'll forward you photographic evidence of the last time Riku had a little too much drinky-drinky.

Good times were had, in case you were wondering.

My name is Sora; at least, that's what it is as far as you know. I can't give you my real name, or any of our real names. It's too big a risk for too little a payout. All it takes is one careless, minuscule slip-up on my part for everything to go to shit in a hand-basket for the five of us.

And with the kind of luck I seem to have, you can never be too careful.

I'm seventeen, or at least I was the last time I saw a calender. I'm a pretty normal guy, I like to think. Average height, slightly below-average weight, average grades, nothing out of the ordinary. I like sports, video games, crappy daytime soap operas, and girls like most guys my age too. Yep, nothing weird of unusual about me in that regard.

I mean, some people try to tell me no guy actually watches soap operas. But I tell them to go to hell, because last time I checked I have male genitalia and nothing entertains me more than watching an episode of _General Hospital_. So they're clearly wrong and I'm clearly right, as per the usual.

Yet despite all my ordinary features, I'm still the most extraordinary human specimen in the history of the world.

Once upon a time I had a happy little life in an unassuming little suburb somewhere in the south-western corner of the country. I had a happy little family, my own bed, my own clothes, a wide-screen TV with a kick-ass surround sound system, and even a fancy-pants hot tub out back. I had good friends, a loving family, a safe home, and I never had to worry about money; basically everything you could ever ask for without sounding too greedy or overtly selfish.

But nowadays I don't have a home. Hell, I'm lucky if I go to sleep with a roof over my head most nights. Most of my food comes from dumpster diving and shoplifting. My clothes are basically worn out, blood-stained rags that I wash with my own perspiration. Hot showers are a luxury once in a blue moon. Soap? That's another rarity. But hot showers and soap, _combined?_ Well, let's not get too crazy here, take everything one step at a time.

I'm kind of like a high class hermit, only because I make somewhat regular attempts to bathe myself. That usually means rubbing myself down with river water and mint leaves.

We are hunted by relentless pursuers, the kind of monsters that would reduce even the bravest of soldiers to hysteric sobs and pitiful pleas for mercy. They always manage to find us, no matter how remote or well-protected the location. They come, they burn our newest home to the ground, and then they piss on the ashes. And whilst the ashes are still flickering with sparks of heats and pumping out a plume of smoke into the night air, they take to pursuing our fleeing forms yet again.

Why, do you ask? What have I done to earn all this ire and scorn? Why do I deserve to suffer so?

I don't actually deserve any of this, as far as I'm aware. I like to think of myself as a good guy, although I can think of five or six people off the top of my head who would disagree with that.

Life has a habit of shitting on good people, and handing out free candy to the corrupt and twisted. (You could add a line break here, if you wished.)

(Nah, I'm good. I dislike line breaks for a reason I still don't understand. I try to use them as sparingly as possible, though that might lead to some confusing transitions, I dunno)

Not too long ago, I escaped from what refer to as the Institute. It's the kind of place where science goes to shit all over the bodies and spirits of young people. Blank white walls, blank white tiles covering the floor, pale lighting that hurts the eyes after a few days, operating rooms, prison cells, cages, needles, needles, needles... sounds just like the Ritz, huh? Think of it like the Jeffersonian Institute for psychopaths and power-hungry mongers.

I was one of those young people, for a time. We all were.

But we were the lucky ones. We managed to break free, with a little help from one particularly sympathetic asshole. Asshole seems like a weird word to describe someone who more than likely saved me from a lifetime of suffering, although I got the feeling my lifetime would have been considerably shorter had I stayed. That's as a story for another time, though.

Now that we're on the run, we're a threat. We are the only people in the world capable of revealing one of mankind's darkest secrets. We're living proof of their atrocities inhumane experiments, of mankind's true potential as a species.

_You know those epic stories you always read? About how good triumphs over evil, __where __love is the ultimate power that shines through the metaphorical darkness of evil? Bullshit. Love hasn__'t done jack shit for me. A little heart-shaped card and some flowers won't do much to stop a bullet flying at my chest at mach speed._

_Everything and anything is decided through battles of willpower. If your force of will is all stronger, you will be the one emerging victorious. Stand tall and look destiny square in the face. Don't show the faintest vestige of fear or uncertainty. Then kick destiny in the balls as hard as you can and tell it to screw off. _

But that's enough about me whining about how sucky my life is, so let's just get to it already.I'll just start things out where they all began. No fancy introductions, no once upon a time, in a land far away. This is how my life was shattered into pieces in the course of a single night.

In case I fail - no, in case we all fail - someone needs to know what happened.

This is my story. A story brimming with adrenaline pumping action, grandiose adventure, mystery, drama, sappy romance, good ol' teenage angst, tragedy, redemption, life, death, kittens, and just the slightest hint of magic.

This is the journey of an ordinary teenager thrown into situations beyond his sheltered, ignorant little mind's comprehension. This is that teen's rise to glory, moments of epic heroism that would put Odysseus to shame interspersed between glory-less massacres and cowardly pleas for mercy.

Seriously, what more could you ask for? This thing should win a Pulitzer prize. Not to toot my own horn or anything.

Friends, conspiracies, murder, enemies, espionage, rebellions, treachery, family, thievery; for better or worse, these are all part of my life now. My story, if you will. But when it comes down to it I'm the star of this traveling freak show.

So buckle up and steel yourselves, because you're in for one hell of a ride.

You ever have one of those days when you wake up, and you feel like you're still dreaming?

I'm sure you have by this point. Hell, there's nothing like dreaming up a good car crash or visceral disembowelment to break your consciousness free of the sandman's iron grip. You spend a few seconds panting, wondering why you're still alive, then realize it was all part of your own personal delusion and go back to sleep without a second thought.

I had one of those dreams once upon a time. It started with me driving to see a friend who was living on the moon, and ended with that same car magically transforming into an X-Wing that I promptly managed to crash into the nearest school bus exclusively filled with senior citizens, small children, and extremely attractive women.

So I woke up panting, fingers digging into the sheets and sweat rolling down my face from my hairline to the point of my chin. The only thing I could see was the faint glow of the streetlights that managed to seep through the cracks in my blinds. The only sound was my heavy breathing and the blood pounding through my ears.

Then the sound of helicopter blades broke through the silence. A blinding white light seeped through my window, casting long shadows on pale blue walls.

I rubbed my weary eyes and glanced over towards my alarm clock; 3:45 in the morning.

I slapped myself in the face a few times, mumbling a few choice words that are probably best left unmemntioned for the sake of the younger readers. This all had to still be a dread. A dream within a dream. The hell, this was starting to feel a lot like _Inception._

Honestly, it was the only option that made sense. What the hell would a helicopter be doing outside my window in the wee hours of the morning? The lawn is too damn small for it to even consider landing, and last I checked nobody living under this roof was a criminal mastermind or terrorist.

Well, unless being drop dead sexy is considered a crime nowadays. In which case, guilty as charged, go ahead and slap some irons on me and toss my naked ass in a cell with all the other extremely attractive deviants. Preferably the females.

I rolled over and fell out of my bed, straightening up and stumbling in the general direction of my window. Maybe it was the local news trying to cover a story, or something along those lines. That seemed like a perfectly reasonable explanation to my sleep-deprived mind. With an unsteady, sleep deprived hand I reached down to pull the blinders back.

And then I felt my jaw drop open, my stomach sink all the way down into my feet, and my eyes snap wide open simultaneously. I took an involuntary step backwards and rubbed at my eyes a second time.

Yep, this was totally a dream. One hundred percent, without a single doubt a dream.

With energy provided only through the graces of panic-induced adrenaline I got to waking myself up from this vivid hallucination. I bounced up and down a few times as if I was sparring, a few push-ups, a couple dozen jumping jacks. And I slapped myself again, because honestly, what did I have to lose? I leaned over and peeked out the window again.

No, they were still there. Every single one of them staring at my house.

Because as if the helicopter thing wasn't enough, there was also a small army congregating on my friendly neighborhood block. All marching in unison, all dressed in the same black getup complete with riot shields, helmets, guns that looked like they could reduce me to Swiss cheese in a split second, and…

And there was an honest to god tank out there, barrel pointed straight at my room.

What the fucking shit.

Now, I lived in the far outskirts of the suburbs. There were a couple big chain stores like Walmart and Home Depot, but it wasn't like we lived down the road from a shopping mall or anything. Plenty of new housing developments and townhouse complexes, even a couple of apartments downtown for local college kids who felt like driving fifteen, twenty-some to their classes. This town was nothing like Amish country, where perhaps this kind of thing could go unnoticed just because of how much space there was between everyone's' homes.

And yet there was no sign at all of any reaction to this strange phenomenon. In fact, it was like everyone had up and left. There were no lights illuminating windows or spilling out over paved paths and driveways. No cars in any driveways, no decorations scatted across front lawns and garden. Hell, even the inflatable pool the people across the street had left out for months on end was gone. And the spot where it had been residing was covered with thick, luscious blades of grass, as if it hadn't been cut off from water and nutrients all that time. Freaky shit.

Now, as you can imagine a lot of things were going through my head at this point

The first was the fact that a tank was trampling all over mom's garden. I spent hours fixing that damn thing up last weekend, and now all those orchids I'd planted where crushed into the ground. Evil bastards.

The second was something along the lines of, '_Oh good god this isn't happening, this much be some kind of dream. Or a hallucination. __Selphie__ could have slipped something into my drink at dinner.' _

But the more I contemplated this point, the more I realized it fell short. This all felt far too real for a dream. I could feel goose bumps emerging from my exposed flesh. The shadows on my walls flickered in tandem with the spinning of the helicopter blades. My clock was actually keeping track of time; these were all too realistic for a mere dream.

And there were no babes. There are always babes in my dreams, no exceptions.

Oh yeah, and I doubted my little sister was friends with anyone who could sell her the kind of illicit substances that would send my brain on a trip of this scale. She was only in middle school, and middle school deviants tended to stick with pot and crappy beer. The hardcore stuff usually didn't make an appearance until high school.

After that realization finally dawned on me, I spent another few minutes trying to brainstorm an alternative reason for a heavily armed military force showing up outside my house. It clearly wasn't a parade of any sorts, so a belated Fourth of July celebration was out of the picture. Maybe they were here to escort us to a safe house as material witnesses for some crime one of us had witnessed? Maybe dad was secretly a Russian spy and had been feeding the dirty commies Intel for the past couple of decades.

Although Dad works as an accountant at some law firm, hardly the prime occupation for gathering exploitable information.

And while I was sitting there trying to figure out why a small army was congregating around our unassuming suburban home, they decided to circle around and position themselves in front of every window and door.

Panic is a funny thing, in a sick and twisted sort of way. It can strike an individual deaf and dumb, or force the body to react before the mind even recognizes the situation. Thankfully, the latter of the two options took hold of my physical form. I was darting away from my window before I even recognized the sound of the front door splintering into pieces, before I felt my stomach drop down to the floor for the second time in less than thirty seconds.

I fumbled with my door and begged my shaking hands to cooperate, the tiny lock evading their grasp. I finally managed to latch on to the damn thing and gave it a hard twist, practically tackling my door open. And promptly fell flat on my face.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" I heard my dad's deep, booming voice echo front the foyer.

Oh god.

"Dad!" I was practically screaming at this point. I clambered to my feet like some kind of drunk and stumbled towards the stairs, fingers scraping at the wall in an attempt to get upright "We need to get out of-"

I was halfway down the stairs when every window in my home simultaneously shattered, the razor-sharp fragments clinking against our hardwood floors like so many chimes. The roof seemed to evaporate as chunks of shingle and wood rained down and pelted my exposed flesh. And from these gaping holes they stormed in, glaring at me from behind glowing-red goggles, dark uniforms flecked with droplets of rain.

My heart skipped a beat.

"It's him!" one pointed a finger in my direction and shouted.

And then it skipped another.

Blinding light spilled into the room, sweeping aside the darkness, and I lifted my arm to cover my eyes. But as I attempted to blindly stumble back upstairs I slipped, falling backwards and slamming my spine against the oaken steps.

"Don't take your eyes off him!" I heard one caution overtop the chaos unfolding in my own home. His voice was deep and gravely; scary as hell, but there was something else hidden in that booming bass.

Fear. Just a hint of it, nothing more than a slight crack in his voice, but just enough to pique my ever-insatiable curiosity.

Of course, that curiosity was quickly crushed when I managed to crack open my eyes. Two men had multiplied into seven or eight, all pointing their big, shiny guns in my general direction. And at that moment, I was more curious about whether or not anyone would take notice if I soiled myself then and there.

I mean hey, they were probably going to kill me. And everyone soils themselves when they die, so who would notice?

"Sora Lawson!" the sound of my name being shouted knocked me out of whatever dazed state I had fallen into, "Surrender yourself and come peacefully! Do not move without our consent, or there will be dire consequences!" The soldiers all looked around at each other, and even though I couldn't see their eyes, somehow I could tell they were uneasy about something. Maybe they weren't comfortable with breaking into some innocent family's home and trashing their lives?

Then maybe I could appeal to their sense of decency. Of course, seeing as the only part of my childhood home that was currently intact were the walls (mostly), I somehow doubted that would work.

I stared into those red goggles, completely aware than my mouth was hanging wide open, but not caring enough to bother shutting it. The most important question of all was echoing through my mind; what the hell were they babbling about? "U-uh…" I stammered, "I… need to, um, talk to my parents and stuff. And I need to put on some clothes too."

Oh yeah. The world was ending inside the Lawson family's home, and the eldest son was caught in boxers and a wife beater. I was totally prepared for this, guys. Seriously. Absolutely. Fo sho. After all what kind of man doesn't keep a switchblade in his undies?

Oh wait, that'd be me. Because I'm not crazy enough to go walking around with an illegal weapon tucked up against my manly parts.

"Shut it," one barked from within the crowd, "Someone restrain him, and be careful! We don't know what he's capable of yet. He's dangerous!" A pause. "They all are."

"What the h-" I couldn't even finish the sentence as a strong hand, far stronger than my own, clamped over my mouth and wrenched my right arm behind my back. Another set of hands wrapped around the other and did the same. And those hands started to drag me down the stairs and towards the remnants of the front door.

'No, no way, this isn't happening.'

I tried to work my way loose. I flailed in every direction, screamed, kicked at my captors with all of my strength. Nothing would loosen the their fingers, not even my pitiful attempts are bribery and begging. Not surprising, though, most grown men wouldn't risk their jobs for a PlayStation and a year's worth of free popcorn at the local movie theatre. Which, sadly enough, were about the only things of value I currently possessed.

I didn't stop trying though. I couldn't stop. Behind me I could hear screams and cries of distress from my family. Mom and Dad begging them to let their kids go, Selphie screaming for someone, anyone to help her.

I was already out the front door, feet dragging through muddy earth and slick stone, skin soaking in the heavy downpour already flooding the streets. It had hardly been a minute yet, and I was already nearly devoid of all hope.

No matter how hard I fought these two, I knew that even if I did manage to break free there would be dozens of others to take their place. They would more than likely be far less tolerant than these two, who had miraculously withheld themselves from beating my insolent ass into submission yet.

And would probably have hundreds of bullets ready to turn my body into an unidentifiable mass of flesh.

'No no no no NO WAY IN HELL.'

Something in my stomach… seized, almost like an involuntary spasm. Something felt different down there. Heavier, almost.

But this, this was as if something had taken hold of my gut and began to squeeze they life out off me. I doubled over and the air flew from my lungs. I vaguely heard the soldiers yelling at me to get up and move, but even the act of standing up was too much for me. A burning sensation had begun to radiate outward from my gut, sweeping throughout my body and growing with every passing second. What has started off as something akin to heartburn was now more like someone setting off roman candles in my small intestine.

And the encouraging kicks these two monkeys were slamming into my ribcage weren't helping much either. In fact, I felt a distinctive crunch as a steel toe collided with the left side of my torso.

It was all I could do to grit my teeth and keep quiet as the soldiers dragged me through the muddy earth. God, what had I done? Had I broke something down there? Did my kidneys spontaneously and simultaneously fail, flooding my body with all enough toxins to down a small elephant? Did my intestinal walls break open of the own accord?

Whatever it was, I just wanted it to end so I could die knowing my family was still alive.

But funnily enough, it did stop. Just like that, the burning vanished completely. But something else remained. My body felt tingly almost, as if someone was passing a faint electrical current through my thoroughly exhausted form. Everything seemed slower, clearer. It was... pleasant, oddly enough.

I looked up and saw the two men again, who promptly dropped me to the ground. One pulled out a pair of handcuffs. The other pointed a rifle straight at my forehead.

I knew what was about to happen.

I glanced downward towards my hands, which still shook, whether from fear or exhaustion, I wasn't sure. I looked back up at them and blew a strand of my brown hair out of my line of sight. And in that moment, I knew this would work. I had no reason to believe I stood a chance in hell against two armed, highly trained professionals. It was probably suicide to even try. But something within me felt different now. And it felt good.

I took a deep breath and pushed the palms of my hands into the soft, malleable earth, as if getting ready to push myself up in surrender.

And instead I whirled about, my heel connecting with the backs of their calves and sweeping them clean off their feet.

Hell yeah! Eights years of marital arts hadn't been a waste after all. Wait until I told Hayner about this, smug bastard always said all the fancy kicking and punching in the world wouldn't do jack shit against somebody with a gun.

My captors laid on the ground, dazed and shocked. I didn't waste any time, or rather I couldn't. I rolled myself over and quickly straddled the one closet to be, driving an elbow into his face with all the strength I could muster. Another elbow quickly followed that, and a blow to his ribcage with my knee. A sickening crunch told me that this guy wouldn't be shooting up any more suburban homes for a while.

This had to be karma. My side hurt like hell still. I had no idea what was wrong, and honestly I didn't want to, but I got the impression I'd done him one worse.

I paused, turning around to face the latter of my two captors, just in time to see him stand up with something shiny and pointy in hand.

'Damn.'

The knife sliced my arm open a little bit as I leapt to the side. I stumbled to my feet, observing the monster of a man begin to charge at me with blade poised to strike.

But, he was moving so slowly! Hell, a little kid could have beaten him in a footrace if given the chance. I watched him lash out at me, frowning. Even that was slow. I took half a step backwards and watched it pass harmlessly through where my stomach had just been. He was still completing his slash when I stepped back in, grabbing the hand holding the knife and jerking it towards his body.

It sank between two ribs with little resistance. I jerked the knife again, slicing in a neat line all the way back towards his spine, watching his expression change from anger, to bewilderment, to shock, all in the span of a few seconds.

I jiggled the weapon around a bit before tearing the knife loose of his body and pushing him over. He fell to the ground with a thud comparable to that of a small tree.

I blinked, trying to figure out what I had just accomplished. Me, a seventeen year old suburban kid who had only ever fought in a martial arts school, had just taken down two highly armed and highly dangerous men who were more than likely wanted for dozens of murders. Something didn't add up. But I didn't have time for that. Whatever had just happened, it had set me free, and I intended to use this newly-gained freedom to charge right back into the eye of the storm.

Good plan, right? It's simple, effective, and basically flawless. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Except for everything.

I ran, ran faster than I even knew I could, knife still in hand. Some of the soldiers still in front of the house tried to stop me. I just twisted to the side whenever one got close, letting them slip and fall face first into the grass and mud. One got too close for comfort. He ended up getting a cheek full of knife.

"Mom! Dad! Selphie!" I shrieked, whirling around the corner into the kitchen and sliding to a complete stop.

There was my family, all kneeling on the ground with their hands restrained behind their backs. Mom's hair was messed up and her left eye was all swollen. Dad's shoulder was pointed at a funny angle; I had the feeling it was dislocated, or worse. Selphie was crying something terrible, a river of blood flowing from her broken nose.

The knife in my hand slipped loose and clattered against the tile.

To this day, I regret how I reacted. I could have tried to distract the guards, could have taken one hostage, something, anything that would save them. Instead I just stood there like a deer caught in headlights.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a soldier make a move towards me. I didn't have time to do anything. He was too close, and I still couldn't feel my arms. I just waited to feel the butt of his weapon slam into the side of my skull.

But that never happened.

Instead, he moved to grab my arm. The second his gloved hand touched me, he began to shake and scream. And then he just fell backs, his corpse twitching. The smell of burnt flesh lingered in the air.

I stared in shock at the body lying by my feet. I wanted to say something. I didn't know what to say, but I still had to break that silence. Everyone was staring, not at the body, but at me.

I shook my head and ran forward. Today was weird enough. I could worry about people spontaneously being electrocuted later.

At least, I tried to run. Something was wrapped tight around my neck, pulling me backwards and crushing my windpipe. It was all I could do to wedge my fingers between it and my throat so I could breathe. And within a few seconds I once again found myself restrained by two men, who slammed my face into hard, stone floor.

Ah well, at least I was with family, right? Even if I had the distinct impression I was missing more than a few teeth, family is all that really matters in the end.

… I'm being facetious, in case you aren't catching onto the sarcasm.

"Try that again, and I'll paint that pretty marble counter-top red with your blood," A voice hissed behind me. I remained motionless, my face still pressed against the tile. I dared to crack open an eye. I saw a boot dangerously close to my head. But that wasn't the important part.

For a split second I saw my hand glowing, crackling, lightning up the room with a whitish glow. And then there was nothing.

I dared to look over to my parents.

They looked back at me with wide, sorrowful eyes. I had never seen them like this before. Dad was always tall and proud, the strongest man I'd ever met in my entire life. And Mom had always had a soft, compassionate air about her. But now, I could only see fear and regret.

I thought I was perfectly safe at home. I thought my parents would be able to protect me when I needed them. They were always different from everyone else. They were always so intelligent, patient, accepting… Hell, I was different too, now that they'd rubbed off on me after seventeen-some years.

And I knew they knew what was happening. And it scared them.

"Dad?" I mouthed, looking at his hardened eye, desperate for something. A signal, a smile, anything that would let me know what to do now. But he just looked down at the ground, defeated. I was sure the droplets of moisture rolling off his leathered skin weren't just rain.

I glanced over to mom, who was staring off to the side. And in that instant, I remembered something she'd told me. '_You're special, honey. No, you're different, that's a better way of putting it. Don't ever forget that. Some people will fear you for those differences. Fear will make them angry, and irrational.'_

I always thought she was just saying what all parents say to their kids. But she said this kind of thing all the time. Honestly, that could have really fucked me up and given me an enormous ego as a kid. But somehow she managed to bring me up as a mostly respectable citizen of these United States. That was probably Dad's doing. He was the one who always pounded me back into the metaphorical ground whenever I gave him or Mom an attitude. So why had Mom so often try to undermine his efforts to instill in me the virtues of humility and respect?

Now that I thought about, she'd started repeating the same sentiment much more frequently in the past four or five months.

_'Look after __Selphie__, Sora. You're special, you can protect her.'_ I heard that almost on a weekly basis, and every time I did I felt a knot of exasperation tighten just a little bit more in my throat. I usually just asked why I was so special, and why I _had_ to protect my sister. Selphie was proving to have the same savant-like affinity for martial arts as myself, and she'd only been going to training (- Training, or class?) with me for the past month or so. She could easily defend herself from anyone her age, and probably from most anybody still in grade school or junior high.

Don't get me wrong, I'd have defended Selphie to death and back was allowed to lay a finger on her without her permission, and I intended to keep it that way. But there was no reason to try and stroke my ego while encouraging me to defend my her. It was just unnecessary.

And all Mom would say was,_ 'You don't know how special you really are, honey.'_ And she'd left it at that, and I would just rolled my eyes and mumble in agreement like a good little boy. I didn't want to be special. My life life goals were to eventually just buy a high end townhouse or condo, and live out my days as a happy bachelor surrounded by the best quality booze whatever salary I earned could provide. I wasn't out to change the world by discovering how to harness electricity from water, or to take a bullet for the President and live to tell the tale.

Now, staring at my hand and trying to decide if I had just had a psychological breakdown, I found myself with reason to give what she'd been saying all these years some thought. Or an equally good reason to live out my days in an asylum. Either or, really.

Three figures emerged from the shadows and joined us. Two were soldiers, sporting rifles and long, jet black trench coats that scraped the floor. If they looked any more like stereotypical bad guys, they'd have goatees and bad accents.

"Sora Lawson?" The third figure stepped out into the light. My eyes locked with his almost immediately.

"Depends on who's asking," I coughed, turning my head so I could try to get a better look at whoever this was. Of course, a boot pressing down on my head kept me from even considering the possibility of talking more.

"That would be a yes, I assume," the figure spoke with an accent of some sorts. British maybe? It just sounded pretentious to me. "And for future reference, I would recommend you give straight answers instead of these roundabout questions. It'll be much healthier for you that way."

"What do you want?" I didn't dare give this guy any attitude now. I liked my head in one piece. Same goes for my family's heads. Brains are icky, I don't need to see that crap.

"Sora Lawson," the man said again, this time a statement instead of a question, "Age seventeen, child of John and Vanessa Lawson. You are hereby taken into our custody until such a time as we deem fit."

I opened my mouth to interject, but the foot on my head decided to apply a little more pressure. I shut my mouth almost instantaneously. The man continued.

"Furthermore, you are now to be treated as property under our ownership, during which you shall do your best to fulfill your duties to science and contribute to the betterment of mankind."

Oh. I got it now.

He's crazy.

They're all crazy.

Completely batshit, flying over the cuckoo's nest crazy.

That would explain the get-ups, I guess. And this guy's hair. It was like the white guy's equivalent of an afro. Flashback to the seventies, anybody?

"You shall be isolated from contact with the rest of society, and withheld at the facility of our choosing." The faintest of smirks had spread across his lips at the point. "Any questions, before we depart?"

Now, I could have been very calm and charming at this point. Could have tried to talk my way out of this mess. That didn't happen.

"I'm just a kid, you freaking nutcase!" I shouted, glaring daggers, "What do you expect to learn from me? How to find sine and cosine? Who the founding fathers were? What the atomic weight of hydrogen is?"

I actually didn't know that last one off the top of my head. Well, that's not true. It was one point something, I just didn't know the decimals. I doubted he really cared though.

The man just smiled. "You seem to misunderstand, Mr. Lawson. We don't want your mind," he leaned down in front of me, poking my forehead with a long, bony finger, "we want you for your body."

Uh.

Hold the phone.

What?

"I... think that's illegal," I drawled, trying my best to remain calm. I prayed to god I was misinterpreting what he was saying. As completely perverted and disturbing as that sounded, it didn't seem likely that someone would bring a small army to find one minor to… well, you know. Rape was still illegal, last I checked. "Like, really illegal."

He just smiled again. What the hell was with this guy and his creepy smiles?

"Oh, incredibly," he chuckled back, pulling something out of his pocket I couldn't see.

I prayed to god yet again, hoping we weren't talking about the same thing. And then I prayed to a few others for good measure.

"_Zeus? Odin? __Morgan Freeman?__ Isis? Freya? Robert Downey Jr.? Uh, lets see... L. Ron Hubbard? If you're listening to this, I could really use a hand right now. Like, right now. Not in the immediate future."_

Yeah, that last one was pushing it a bit, I know. But hey, you try thinking up god-like figures when you're in a life-or-death situation.

Obviously I didn't get an answer. Right then, becoming an atheist was a very tempting thought.

He straightened up, looking back to the two men who had accompanied him. "You, take him out of here. I don't want to hear another word from him until we return." The first nodded, "And you, take care of cleanup. No loose ends, do you understand?"

My eyes widened as I saw the second turn to my family and draw his weapon.

Before I could say or do anything, I felt a sharp pain in the back of my skull.

Then there was nothing.


	2. Chapter 1

_- Chapter One -_

Have you ever woken up in a cage?

Actually, there's a pretty decent possibility you have. After all, what is a jail cell but the roomier, slightly more comfortable version of a cage?

Note the use of the term, "possibility." I'm not accusing you of regularly waking up half drunk the county jail, with your pants around your ankles and a penis etched in sharpie on your forehead.

Unless you do that on a regular basis, of course. In which case, keep living life to its fullest, my friends, more power to you. And don't mind the fact I have to pay for your showers and weekly beatings with my hard-earned money.

So let me rephrase; have you ever woken up in a cage without any clothes on?

Wait, wait, wait… that can happen in jail too. Damn, give me one more go. I swear I can get this down pat. Or die trying. Here goes.

Have you ever woken up in a cage, completely bare-ass naked, in an enormous, empty room with a spotlight shining down on you?

Ah, see? That was the ticket!

Anyway, let me just say this; waking up after getting bashed upside the head is far from a pleasant experience.

For starters, my brain felt like someone had just poked it with a live power line. The pain blossomed outward from the back of my skull, spreading all the way down my neck and radiating outward into my shoulder blades.

And then there was the light. That god-be-damned light. I cracked my eyes open as soon as I'd managed to achieve consciousness only to snap them shut the next instant. A pained hiss escaped from my chapped lips, and tears leaked out from between tightly shut eyelid.

_'Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,'_ I took a deep, shaky breath, a vain attempt to push aside the panic and fear bubbling away just beneath my soil-stained skin. I cracked them open once more, hoping after the initial shock the pain would subside.

I took in a sharp breath of stale air as waves of agony came crashing down upon my head, radiating outward from my eyes and spreading to what felt like every square inch of my brain. _'Gah! Piss! Sh__*__t! Motherf-'_

Yeah, that hurt too.

But as it turned out, my eyes weren't the only part of my body that felt like making life uncomfortable. The moment I took that shocked breath a searing pain blossomed inside my chest. Each heave of my diaphragm sent a fresh spasm of agony crashing into my nervous system.

I flopped my face back down into the hard metal underneath me. I just wanted to give up right then and there. Let them come and take me away, beat me into submission, whatever it took. If it got me out of here, I was more than okay with it.

It was right about then I realized something kind of important. I had no idea how I'd gotten in this little pickle of a situation. And I had no idea who "they were," either.

Ha ha, little pickle. Ha.

What am I doing here...?

That was a good question. A very, very good question. Either this was some kind of incredibly twisted dream I'd managed to conjure up in my sick little mind, or I was forgetting something very important.

I flipped over on my back, taking deep, steady breathes and ignoring the sudden nausea bubbling away in my gut. That last thing I remembered was… huh.

What DID I remember?

Blurry faces raced through my memory, though I couldn't think of the corresponding names. Buildings I recognized but never remembered entering, like a school and some white house with a perfectly manicured lawn. I recalled historical facts and mathematics and sciences, but not the context I had learned them in.

My teeth closed around my lower lip, grinding away at it in frustration. You'd imagine you'd remember how you ended up in a big ol' metal cage with your face reduced to a bloody mess. Seems like the kind of thing that would stick out as a point of interest in a guy's memory.

Right. And even then , I couldn't remember diddly squat about jack sh*t. Hell, a better question would have been, _'What's my name again?'_

The only recent thing I could vaguely recall was something heavy and dense colliding with the crown of my skull. And even then, I wasn't completely sure I wasn't just making that up.

Not that my memory was stellar normally, mind you. I had trouble remembering to take out the trash every Sunday night. I once managed to forget my suitcase in my room before the big family trip to Disney World a few years back.

Wait, I had been to Disney World before? Sweet!

I dared to crack my eyes open again, wincing as the light tore straight through them and wreaked havoc on my poor, defenseless brain. Still, I didn't close them again. A few seconds passed, painful seconds, yeah, probably the most painful of my entire life, but it was enough time to let my eyes acclimate to the brilliance overhead. I let out a grunt I turned my head to the side.

And all of a sudden, I really wished I hadn't bothered opening my precious baby blues.

There was nothing. Really. I was lying in a prison of steel, bathed in darkness, surrounded by soulless white tiles as far as the eye could see.

If I'd kept them closed, at least I could have used my imagination to fill in the blanks. I could've pretended I was on a boat in the Caribbean. Or some sort of prisoner in a terrorist camp, being held for questioning. Maybe I could have fooled myself into believing I was in the hospital, awaiting treatment. You know, if I was delusional enough for that to actually work.

But no, I was confronted with absolutely nothing.

With a grunt I squirmed up into a sitting position. My back was leaning up against the bars, the icy metal digging into tender flesh. Chills hot up and down my spine in protest.

It was just my luck, really. Stuck in some god-forsaken room with no idea how I'd ended up here. The only hints I had were a throbbing head and aching body. And I was naked. Can't forget the naked part.

That's right, just picture it. Gives you the tingles, right? I thought so.

I glanced down at my battered form, a frown pulling at my expressionless face. My hand worked its way down my torso, feeling at my exposed flesh and searching for any bruises I had managed to accumulate.

There were lots. I won't waste your time trying to list them all.

The outstretched digits came to a stop near the bottom of my ribcage. Something felt off. I probed the unusually tender, swollen spot with the tip of my index finger.

And then proceeded to vomit as I felt my rib sink a little deeper into my body that it was supposed to be.

I actually didn't have anything in my stomach. I just leaned over and retched for a minute. It hurt like hell, but at the very least it was better than having to lie around in my half-digested filth.

_'Okay, so, rib's broken,'_ I coughed a few times and straightened up again,_ 'Today just keeps getting better and better.'_ I paused,_ 'Or tonight. Whatever it is.'_

So, quick recap. I'm stuck in a cage, completely bare-ass naked, in some room I'm fairly sure I've never had the pleasure of visiting before. It's cold, the boys are unhappy as can be, and there's something that looks like blood caked to the side of my leg and face. I also don't remember anything.

Okay, that was an exaggeration. I remembered useless stuff, like schoolwork and random glimpses of a life before this. I remembered faces and voices, but there were no names to go with them.

I didn't even remember my freaking name.

I'm not sure when exactly the panic set in.

Maybe it was when a door on the far side of the room slammed open, flooding the empty space with light.

Maybe it was when I saw this… thing tear open my cage with its bear-like hands, while its friend picked me up like a sack of potatoes and flung me over its shoulder

Maybe it was when I felt my very loose rib slam into the monster's shoulder and bury itself in something that was probably not meant to be skewered by a piece of bone.

Maybe it was when I found myself staring into a humanoid face covered in a vicious layer of black slime, with two feral, amber eyes staring back into my ocean blue ones.

Maybe it was when the two antenna-like projections from its forehead brushed up against me and the tips of its razor-sharp claws dug into my lower back.

It was probably when that face opened its mouth and revealed rows of shark-like teeth, with strands of black ooze still connecting its lips. I wanted to scream, but a hand covered in that disgusting ooze quickly covered my open mouth and muffled any noises I tried to make.

Instead, it just flooded my mouth with the nastiest taste I had ever had the displeasure of stomaching. Imagine rotten Brussels Sprouts. Then mix them in with kitty litter and just a hint of human excrement.

By the time I realized I should have probably been scared, they'd already carried me out of the room. Everything outside was pitch black too. My hand was scarcely an inch away from my nose and I couldn't even see that.

The only thing I could see were those amber eyes.

I wasn't exactly expecting it when the beast dropped me on my back. Neither did I foresee its hand closing around my throat and holding me in place. My busted rib certainly wasn't, but by that point my stomach had only acid and blood left to offer my pitiful attempts at wrenching. Thankfully they stayed down, for the moment.

Only one word went through my mind as I laid there. Kinky. If I wasn't busy dying of pain, I would have laughed. The possibility of regular death was a bit of a downer too.

A light flicked to life overhead and blinded me for a moment (And that's three times my sight has been messed with today, in case you're keeping track too). I felt a cold, strong grip latch onto my ankles.

Kinkier.

My eyes flew open once more and looked downward. I was on an operating table of sorts, complete with restraints for my limbs and that stupid paper towel covering doctors use at their offices.

Yeah, I'd say that was when the panic set in completely. Up until them it had been pre-panic, as I liked to call it.

It's not like I just sat there and did nothing. I tried to fight back. I dug my fingers into its exposed chest, punching it in the side of the jaw with what little strength I could muster. Hell, I even managed to close my fingers around a scalpel and jammed it into the side of its neck. I was screaming bloody murder, I was yelling obscenities at the top of my lungs, I was even calling on some curses in other languages when I ran through all the ones I knew in English.

But it didn't do anything. In fact, the thing seemed like it was more amused by my efforts if anything.

It was laughing. Well, laughing in a sort of hyena-ish way.

With a scalpel sticking out of its neck.

Laughing.

Scalpel. In neck.

Seriously, you cannot begin to fathom just how unnerving that was.

I didn't get much time to think about it, though. A needle sank into my neck, and within seconds I found myself drifting off into the sweet, sweet embrace of sleep.

Or death. I really hoped it was death. Because the last thing I saw with a giant, tube-like machine being wheeled up next to me, filled with some sort of black liquid and sporting a needle the size of a small tree trunk.

What seemed like five seconds later I woke up again, staring up at the numerous faces concealed by surgical masks. I cast a glance downward, looking for whatever they'd done to me while I was out. Maybe they'd stuck a giant leech on my belly button, ot given me robotic limbs.

Actually, my skin looked smooth and unblemished. The scrapes and bruises had all mysterious vanished. And I had pants now! Sure, they looked like someone had hastily fashioned them from a burlap sack, but I honestly couldn't give two damns.

Pants are awesome. Seriously, don't go taking those things for granted anymore.

"Congrats kid!" One announced in a super chipper choice that made me want to pull out his teeth. All of them. One at a time. Slowly. And then wash out the sockets with lemon juice and salt. I licked my lips, breaking the seal between them.

"Eh?" I wheezed out, noting how dry my mouth. I coughed a few times, promptly realizing there wasn't an agonizing pain in my side anymore. In fact, if I ignored the overwhelming fear of the sharp instruments coated in what I could only assume was my blood overhead, I was feeling pretty good!

The surgeon, at least I hoped he was a surgeon, just shrugged and ruffled my hair.

"Oh you know, this was nothing major, but still, I'm surprised how quickly we finished up working on you! With that much damage most people would have started bleeding out halfway through, but you didn't! Actually, you were already on the mend when we got to work."

"Eh?" I repeated myself again. My voice was noticeably drier.

"You have a couple broken ribs, torn ligaments, fractures to both hands, fractured vertebrae…" He kept listing injury after injury, but I tuned him out barely halfway through the list.

I should have felt like sh*t. Even if I was hopped up on drugs, there was no way I could possibly feel this… normal after what was be described to me. It was like I had been in a car crash, judging from the fact the list was still ongoing.

And the more important question was still bounding around my head. What the hell had I been doing before this morning?

"… fractured skull, and a couple of boo boos everywhere else." He paused for dramatic effect. It didn't work. "Yep, very lucky to still be here! And lucky for us! We'd hate to lose you after all the trouble we went to find you."

I could only imagine the stupid smile underneath his stupid mask on his stupid face.

I ignored that last part. Poor bastard must have been dropped on his head or something, because I had no idea what he was talking about. "And who is we, exactly?"

"Oh you know, we're just people," he said offhandedly, waving to the rest of the individuals present. They disappeared into the darkness around us without a moment's hesitation. I guess this guy was in charge around here. "people with ideas, people who know things, good people!"

I tried to laugh. It didn't work.

"You don't believe me?" the crestfallen man said, pulling down his mask and frowning sadly. His blond goatee shifted a bit as he pulled his facial muscles downward. "Well, that just means we have nowhere to go but up! My name is Dr. Luxord, a pleasure to work with you!"

"Bite me," I mumbled, looking off the side. The newly dubbed Luxord started pushing the operating table out of the room and into the dimly lit corridor.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" The blond asked again, a weird look crossing his sharp features. "I didn't hear a thank you for saving your life."

"I wasn't aware my life needed saving in the first place," was my sharp retort.

"How disappointing!" A melodramatic sigh, "Do I have to go almost kill you, again, so that I can fix you up, again, to get a proper display of gratitude?"

Uh, right. He was crazy. I filed that tidbit away from later use.

"I mean, yeah, thanks," I strained my neck to try and see where he was taking me. No such luck.

"Uh uh uh, try again young man!" He whipped the cart to the side and started his way down an adjacent hallway, nearly flipping me over in the process.

"Thank you Dr. Blondie," I grumbled a little bit louder.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over my bone saw!" I looked up in a heartbeat. And lo and behold, he had a bone saw in hand, hovering a few inches about my exposed throat. "This is Miranda, by the way. Lovely thing, we've been working together ever since med school."

I could see my petrified expression reflected in the piece rusted steel Luxord was swinging around with some sort of demented conductor's baton.

"I was having an absolutely lovely conversation about femurs with a colleague of mine just the other day! Did you know it's the longest bone in the human body? Fascinating, really. I hear they made excellent clubs out of them in the dark ages. I keep a bunch in my office under lock and key, never can have too many femurs, that's what I always say!" He laughed, "But I digress, what were you saying again?"

I swallowed a hard lump in my throat. "Thank you Dr. Luxord! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

"Ah, well, why didn't you just say so in the first place?" The blond beamed, his tool vanishing back into one of his lab coat's pockets. "You know, knowing I get to help people like you is what makes my day worthwhile. Really is!"

"So you like helping people?" I asked in a small, disbelieving voice.

"Oh lord no, of course not," he gave a defeated sigh, toying with a silver loop hanging from his ear, "See, I enjoy the part where I get to see your disemboweled body on my operating table. I get to put you back together just so I can see you in the same place the next day!"

Uh, right. Definitely crazy, more than likely a sociopath.

"And then there's the children! They're the best to work with, only takes a few minutes to patch them up. Then I just throw them back into the feeding frenzy and hope they leave the brain intact for me to work with!"

Okay, beyond crazy. Totally a sociopath.

I strained my neck again, desperately trying to figure out where this nut job was taking me. No such luck though. All I could see were florescent lights and white tiles. I was starting to have vivid images of what this guy might do to me if I couldn't get loose.

'I swear to go, if this guy tries to take a leg I'm going to be SO pissed!'

Needless to say, I was jumping to worse-case scenarios.

"… and sometimes they even give me the leftover limbs, and I try swapping them around! Doesn't usually work, but when it does, my oh my, they're always so confused!"

I was very glad I had chosen that particular moment to space out. I didn't want to know what he'd been saying just a few moments prior. I'd thrown up enough for one day.

"And here we are!" The blond looked down at me and beamed some more. God, that smile was abso-f***ing-lutely terrifying. It was something like a cross between a politician, a catholic priest (the bad kind, mind you), and a child molester (redundant, I know), with just a tiny little hint of serial killer mixed in for flavor.

"Here being…" I let my eyes wander the room. It was pretty much the same as everywhere else I'd been up until now. Fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling, off-white ceramic squares embedded into the floor, sea foam-green tiles lining the walls, each separated from each other by thin lines of sickly, yellowish grout.

Luxord took a few steps back from me and stood in the doorway, rocking back and forth on his heels. "This is the playroom!" His sing-song tone was really starting to get to me. He sounded like an optimist. An insane, optimistic sociopath. Those were the worst kind of optimist.

I tugged halfheartedly at my restraints. "Oh, don't look so sad, we'll have you out of those restraints in no time!" The blond flashed his blindingly white grin in my direction.

"Now, I'm going to be in there," he pointed at a mirror to my left. I glanced over and stared. The kid looking back at me looked nothing like the one I saw in my bathroom mirror a couple days ago. Someone had cropped my hair short; it was maybe a two or three inches long at best now. A dark bruise encompassed my left eye and spread downward to the rest of my cheek.

"One way mirror," I took a sharp intake of breath. Luxord must have mistaken my silence as confusion. "So, play to win, and hopefully I'll see you in a couple hours!"

"Wait!" I yelled after him, "Win what?"

"I told you, its playtime!"

"No, I know that!"

Luxord paused, looking over his shoulder and flashing an insincere grin. "You're here for testing, young man. And I think that's all you really need to know."

With that, the double-doors leading into the room slid shut, and a pane of thick metal dropped from the ceiling and blocked the exit.

"Riiiiight," the metal rings restricting my limbs snapped open. I flexed my wrists and let loose a sigh of relief. The skin was red and raw from where the metal had been cutting into my flesh; it stung like hell, but I could move again.

I don't see how people actually enjoy that sort of thing when they feel like getting kinky. Then again, I don't understand most of the fetishes people tell me about. Especially feet. And cat girls.

"You all set?"

I jumped, looking around the room for the source of that voice. My eyes settled on a speaker resting just above the one-way mirror. "Luxord?"

"No, no, lord no, he left to go get some coffee. I'll be the one evaluating you today. So, try and impress me, okay?"

I furrowed my brow and whipped my legs around so the hung off the side of the table. "Ah, I see he didn't tell you what we're doing today. First time, I take it?"

"First time for what?" I shot back, a painful knot starting to tie itself in my stomach. The voice chuckled. I think. It was kind of hard to tell. The speaker had really bad sound quality.

"That would be a yes," the voice sounded amused, if anything, "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Fine with what?"

A loud roar broke through the awkward silence between me and my unseen captor. "Him," was all the response I received.

That was then the wall to my right suddenly exploded.

As the cloud of dust and rubble began to dissipate, I finally had an opportunity to get a good look at what I was dealing with. And what I saw didn't do much to settle those previously aggravated nerves of mine.

The creature was roughly humanoid in shape, though it stood a good couple of feet taller than most people nowadays. Dark skin covered what parts of its body weren't concealed by a layer of viscous black ooze. What really drew caught my attention was the bone-white mask adhering to its face, vaguely crocodilian in design. Its jaw was as long as my forearm and embedded with interlocking, knife-sized teeth.

And its eyes; large, soulless orbs of amber.

"Ummm…" I blinked, "Hi?"

Maybe this thing didn't want to eat me! Maybe it was some sort of ambassador from another dimension. Or maybe it was a vegetarian. I'd always thought there was more to life than this universe; maybe this was my opportunity to see all of creation firsthand!

Or maybe it wanted to kill me, suck out my brain through my ear canal, use my intestines like a jump rope, and wear my skin like a fashionable coat. Hopefully in that order.

A low growl was all the response I received. The creature opened its mouth to reveal another row of teeth hiding behind those carved into its mask. Lovely.

"That's a good boy," I said encouragingly, shifting his weight to the balls of my feet as my all-too familiar flight-or-fight response finally kicked in.

The monster let loose a bestial roar and leapt towards me, crossing the gap between us in a split second, extending its razor-sharp talons. I didn't even have time to get off the bed or scream, didn't have time to notice the burning sensation flooding my entire body from head to toe. I did realize, however, that I had instinctively fallen backwards as I watched the beast soar harmlessly overhead.

By the time my brain had caught up with the situation I had already rolled off the operating table. I was standing on my own two, wobbly legs, hunched over with my arms hanging loosely by my sides. And I was shaking. Oh god, was I shaking something fierce. It was like every fiber of my being was screaming in protest, begging me to run and save what was left of my time on this earth.

There wasn't enough time though. The creature before me had freed its head from the wall and was staring me down, spittle dripping from its open mouth and burning holes in the floor. I wrinkled my nose a bit, _'Ew.'_ With a roar its hind legs coiled and extended, hurling it towards me once again with enough force to break through solid concrete.

But, something was wrong.

No, not wrong.

Different.

It was moving slow. Too slow. It lazily drifted through the air, as if someone had reality into slow motion. I could see rubble and spittle shaking loose from its gaping maw and floating down towards the ground, as if someone had pumped it full of helium.

And then everything fractured, and everything became whole.

The charging beast seemed to separate from the rest of the room. I only saw it in perfect clarity. Everything else just blurred away into indiscriminate blobs of color. Nothing else seemed to matter.

I felt my body give another violent tremor, the burning in my stomach branching out to consume every last cavity in my body.

I caught a glimpse of my hand. The skin had darkened to a shade of deep pink. Veins were bulging, tendons convulsing beneath my flesh, muscles rippling beneath the sheath of flesh.

It was only a few inches away from me now. I lifted a hand over my head, frowning, feeling its warm, putrid breath against my face. I brought my hand down, securing a firm grip on the edge of its mask. And I pulled downward, pulled as hard as I could. Because somehow I knew this would work, that I could stop whatever this thing was just like that.

The mask tore loose from the creature's face. But that wasn't the only thing that came off. Bones, muscle, sinew, they all came loose as well; I basically tore off its face with one swift motion. A black liquid as the night splattered across my torso as I twisted to the side, watching the creature slide past me with wide eyes.

It shrieked in agony, whipping about, trying to figure out where I was hiding. But its one remaining eye hung limp and useless from its socket. Cries of pain quickly melted into whimpers as it slammed into the wall over and over again. And then after one final, sickening crack, there was silence.

I stumbled backwards and dropped the mask, looking down at my hands. They were covered in a black blood, shaking just as violently as the rest of my terrified form. Bits of flesh that weren't my own stuck to my sweat-ridden skin.

I couldn't vocalize my question as I stared into that one-way mirror, but I think my expression conveyed it pretty well.

_What the hell did you do to me?_

"Forty seven seconds," a voice rang out from a speaker concealed off the in the darkness, disinterest lacing its melodic tones. "Not bad, considering it was his first run. What's the record again?"

"Nine seconds," another, deeper voice rang out.

"Then this was an acceptable outcome," the first voice sounded almost cheery. I could hear a pencil scraping against paper, "more than acceptable, actually. Though honestly, I didn't expect it would take this long. Wasn't the subject who set that record a non-combatant, after all?"

"Yes, but there are extenuating circumstances. You know this already."

"Ah well, who cares? I 'm sure given a week or two this boy will be taking names and breaking records! At least, I think that's how the phrase goes, correct?

"I wouldn't know, sir."

"You did a good job…" the voice trailed off, "Let's see, what's the name… ah yes, there it is! Number four! Excellent work!"

My body was still burning up something fierce, and the occasional tremor was wreaking havoc on my weary frame.

"Oh don't worry, the shakes will pass," the voice sounded decidedly disinterested now, almost buried behind the noise of shuffling papers. I guess they could see me shaking. "Give it five minutes or so and you'll be all set to go again. Can't say the same for that poor chap, though. Pity really."

"T-t-t-that wasn't human..." I trailed off, gesturing towards my chest with a shaking finger. In truth I was referring to more myself than the corpse occupying the same room.

"Well of course that's not human. Those were miniature poodles," the voice paused, as if taking a moment to consider something. It clearly misinterpreted my statement. I couldn't help but wonder if it did so on purpose. "Well, very mutated and ill-tempered miniature poodles."

Now it all made sense. Everything made sense. I could see the future. I WAS the mother-flipping future. I was a god amongst men, destined to rule over pitiful mankind for all eternity.

Actually, those were lies. I hadn't figured jack diddly squat out. But now I at least had a reason as to why I was being held captive here. Freak test subject was a better option than potential sex slave, after all. Well, to most people it was, and I wasn't about to try and go prove the exception.

I had finally managed to stop shaking, though my skin was still faintly tinged a lovely shade of pale pink. I was sweating like a pig in a room that was cold enough for me to be able to see my own breath.

That's when my brain finally caught up with the conversation.

"Wait, what? Again?" I felt my heart stop for a fraction of a second, "Do what again?"

A panel on the far wall slid open, revealing three sets of amber eyes, teeth the size of swords, and enormous bodies that towered at least a good three feet over the tips of my spiky hair.

"Now these are the Great Danes."

I could have sworn I saw my skin turn blood red just before my vision blurred.

"Someone go and contact Superior. He's going to want to see this for himself, I think."

Tired.

It was the only word my mind could comprehend as they dragged me away from the scene of that... that, that massacre. The pants they'd so graciously lent me were torn to shreds. The flesh on my torso and arms was sliced open, brilliant crimson slowly mixing in with the jet black blood that was not my own. My hair was soaked with all manner of sweat and bodily fluids, hanging limp and lifeless, obscuring my vision.

And still, I had won.

Victory. The word sounded hollow in my mind as I kept repeating it to myself. I had won, I was alive, I was strong – no, I was stronger. But I felt nothing.

Because while victory meant I would live another day, somehow I knew tomorrow wouldn't get any better than this. I had fought for survival, out of instinct more than anything else. And I hated myself for it.

But the worst part was, I had won.

Now how the hell had that happened?

The scene replayed itself in my head, over and over. I thought I was going to get bull rushed and torn to shreds. Instead, the opposite happened. I was vicious, I was scared out of my mind, and I had completely destroyed them.

Hell, if I ever got out of here the military would pay big bucks to have me around. I was like Captain America. Without the stupid costume. No shield, either. And I didn't go spewing propaganda at criminals.

An image of me standing on top of a pile of bodies flitted into my mind, and I had to suppress a giggle.

_He bore stone-cold expression, his hardened gaze pointing towards a purple and orange sky dotted with tufts of white. His left arm hung limp and useless at his side, while the right held a red, white and blue shield high overhead. A cape emblazoned with the stars and stripes fluttered dramatically from his shoulders-_

Okay, at that point I literally had to giggle.

I heard a growl off to the side, and quickly shut my mouth. The beast clenching onto my right arm gave a snort of approval and loosened his grip. I almost gave a sigh of relief. I'd quickly discovered these… things were rather heartless. If I made the slightest noise, excluding the occasional intake and exhale of breath, they made it a point to silence me.

Hell, I should give these things a name. Monster just doesn't seem to cut it nowadays, seeing as half the things I'd encountered in my brief stay at this place could all be described as monstrous, at the very least.

_'Let's see. Black, gooey skin, check. Glowing evil eyes, check. Claws that could probably castrate me in a heartbeat, check. Teeth that could take a chunk out of a Hummer, check. Ant antenna…thing…'_

I raised an eyebrow slightly, watching the strange extensions that protruded from the beast's forehead. The curled backwards, almost like a pair of pigtails that trailed behind the monstrosity's head, '… check-?'

But what to call them? Demons? Terrorists? Creepers?

No, no, no,, not Creepers. Last I checked they didn't have the tendency to self-detonate. If they did, I had yet to witness it firsthand. And there was probably some kind of copyright infringement involved, though I somehow doubt Notch would press any charges if he ever found out. Assuming the stupid game ever leaves beta, of course.

I grinned as a single word materialized within my exhausted, battered mind.

_'Heartless.'_

It was perfect. Beyond perfect, really. I had to be some sort of genius, I decided then and there.

They were brutal and cold and efficient all at the same time. They sliced through victims and beat them senseless without a second thought. I had yet to encounter one with a moment's compassion to spare. They seemed to take pleasure in their work, judging from the animalistic cries of mirth and the wide, toothy grins they were more than eager to flash.

Heartless described them perfectly, to a fault almost.

The name was bound to stick, especially when my two escorts lifted and tossed me into yet another cage. I noticed straightaway that this one was a lot smaller than the other one. I had to curl my knees into my chest to fit inside the same thing, and even then I had to duck my head down to keep from aggravating the growing lump positioned perfectly atop my cowlick.

I glared at the heartless as they disappeared into the open door, slamming it shut behind them. Silent curses fluttered through my mind as I took the opportunity to figure out where exactly I was.

It wasn't the room I'd woken up in that much was obvious. I wasn't sitting alone in the middle of a room. Instead I was in a more closet-like space. The floor was covered in alternating black and white tiles, illuminated by tiny lights running along the one portion of exposed wall. It kind of reminded me of those things in movie theaters that keep you from running into other people's seat when you sprint for the bathroom.

And then there were the cages. They were stacked on top of each other all the way up to the surprisingly high ceiling, all made from interlocking poles of rusted, silvery metal. I glanced down at the floor of my cage, and frowned. No padding, just interwoven metal bars.

_'You're lucky. One of the bars on the bottom of my cage is best upwards. Digs into my back whenever I try to roll over at night, really uncomfortable.'_

I rubbed my eyes, blinking furiously in an attempt to fight off the exhaustion. I must have been really tired.

_'You know, you have some weird blockages in here. All I'm getting are weird pop culture references. Did you hit your head or something on the way over?'_

I was hearing voices now? Man, this place was getting to my face faster than I'd thought it would. I was giving myself a minimum of one week of this crap before I snapped.

_'Oh, sorry, I always forget people aren't used to me doing this. My names Olette, what's yours?'_

I started blinking faster. Okay, so I was hearing a voice in my head, and it was apparently female.

_'You're not going crazy, you know. I'm just talking to you.'_

I frowned. This was some hardcore Freudian-level crap I didn't know how to deal with.

_'I mean, telepathically. I'm talking to you in your mind.'_

Ah, of course, telepathy. Why hadn't I thought of that sooner? At least there was an explanation now, because if I had to explain to someone why I was putting on lipstick and wearing sundresses, I don't think I'd survive the fallout.

By the way,I don't think I could make the sarcasm here any thicker if I tried.

_'That does seem like it would be rather painful,'_ the voice sounded almost thoughtful now. I could practically see it in my mind's eye; a pretty girl with long, brown hair a few shades darker than my own, with green eyes and a roundish face.

_'That would actually be me, you know,'_ the voice continued_. 'Look, just humor me and tell me your name. I can't find it in here, for some reason. Your mind's a weird place. Never seen anything like it.''_

_'Okay, okay, fine, if it gets you to shut up and leave me alone for the night,'_ I grumbled, leaning my head against the back of the crate._ 'I don't know, happy? Just call me whatever you want, I don't particularly care. Now, female me, can you go away so I can cry myself to sleep or something?'_

I waited for a bit. No response. I grinned weakly in relief.

Good, no more teenage girl voices in my head. On a scale of one to ten, that was about a seven or eight on the creep factor. Earlier today it would have been like a twelve, maybe a thirteen if I felt like pushing it. But after you tear off a face with your bare hands, everything else seems pretty tame in comparison.

"I bet it does," that same voice rang out again. I rolled my eyes, resisting the overpowering urge to bash my head against the walls of my prison. Speak of the devil, and here I thought I was going to get a break from my psychosis.

_'Oi, I told you before, get out of my head!'_

"Do I sound like I'm in your head?"

My eyes flew open. Slowly I lowered my gaze from the ceiling, staring into the crates across from me.

And there she was, sitting cross legged, a soft smile stretched across her lips. Her long hair casted a shadow that almost concealed her face from view.

"Uh…" I could feel my eyes widen in shock. This girl was real. I mean, yeah, there was the possibility I was hallucinating, but I wasn't willing to believe my psychosis had moved along so quickly in such a short period of time. Unless it was altering with my perception of time. I didn't know if that was possible, but I wasn't totally willing to discard the theory.

"You're not crazy," the girl said, both out loud and in my freaking head.

Well then, if that was the case I was golden. The girl talking to me in my head was telling me I wasn't crazy. I was totally going to believe that. Also, Michael Jackson wasn't a pedophile and the moon is actually made of barbecue spare ribs.

"Says the vivid hallucination," I shot back weakly, without conviction.

I shouldn't have been that shocked. After everything I'd seen today, this shouldn't have been the one thing that shook me to my very core and made me question my grip on reality. But for some reason my pitiful male brain was having difficulty wrapping itself around this revelation.

"Really, you're okay," the girl moved a little closer to the bars of her cage and peered out from between them. "You're only been here for a day."

Disbelief was etched into my facial features, and I'm sure it was already seeping into my tone. "And how do you know how long I've been here, exactly?"

"I heard you when you first woke up. You have very… loud thoughts when you're upset, louder than most people." She sounded almost apologetic.

"Oh. Oops."

Wait, I was buying into this telepathy thing again. Probably shouldn't do that, lest my sanity slip away in quicker.

"I'm a telepath. And don't worry, it usually takes a couple months before most people snap. You have plenty of time before then."

A couple of months? Oh sweet Jesus on a burning stick made of jalapenos. Any notions of scoffing in disbelief at the brunette's proclamation of having psychic powers paled in comparison at knowing just how long this imprisonment could last. I wouldn't last that long here!

"Relax, you'll be fine," Olette's soothing tones echoed in my ears and my mind. A faintly sweet scent filled my nostrils, leaving my feeling unusually clam. Like, really calm, out of the freaking blue. Barely a second ago I'd was ready to start screaming and throwing up, and now I was sitting cross-legged as if nothing in the world was wrong.

"You're different," she said thoughtfully, eying me up and down, "judging from what you did today. If we made it this long, I'm sure you'll find a way to get by too." I cocked an eyebrow skyward.

"We?"

That's when two figures moved into view to the left and right of Olette. I couldn't see much; one was decidedly male sported shoulder length, silvery-white hair, while the other had a very feminine build and long, darkish red locks. But I didn't pay much attention to that.

Instead, I found my gaze drawn to the feathers protruding from their backs, just visible above their hunched shoulders. Olette had them too.

Oh. Wings. Of course. Why the hell not?

It was seeing this with my own two eyes that led to a long, long, long-overdue psychological meltdown.

I felt my mouth flop open. Honestly, I didn't particularly care at the moment. A hornet could have nested in the back of my throat and built a hive, and I probably wouldn't have noticed.

Instead, one thought kept looping through my head.

_'… Everything I know is a lie.'_

This time, I really did decide to bash my head into the bars of my personal prison. The winged silver-haired one chuckled, watching my reaction with vague interest.

"That's a bit of a stretch, kid. Actually... wait, Olette, didn't you just say he lost his memory?" I heard a note of curiosity in the other male's voice.

"Well, yeah, parts of it," Olette frowned a little bit, her teeth closing around her lower lip, "What's your point?"

"How much can he actually know, then?" He gave me a funny lookout of the corner of his eyes. "Brain damage tends to really mess people up, last I checked."

"Riku!" The brunette girl sounded scandalized, "It's not like his brain was completely wiped clean, he just can't access certain memories! Don't be an ass!"

"Hey, I'm sorry!" He didn't sound very sorry, if anything, he just sounded indignant. "I thought it was a valid question!"

I actually didn't care if he was sorry or not. I was perfectly content with trying to put a dent in the bars with my forehead.

"Well you're being insensitive! Can you pretend to be nice until he gets used to things?"

"Guys..." I heard another female voice trail off in the background, a note of exasperation surrounding its tone. I could only guess it belonged to the redhead observing the bickering two with an annoyed expression.

"Hey, that was nice!" The silver-haired boy continued ranting and waved his arms around for emphasis. "I could have just asked if he was retarded, but some people are sensitive about that kind of thing!"

"Oh, god, you are unbelievable!" Olette was seething by this point. I could almost picture the cartoony jets of steam shooting out of her ears.

"And you're brunette." The other boy paused, mouth dropping open in faux-shock. "Wait, are we not playing the 'let's point out the obvious' game? My bad."

"Ass," was Olette's oh-so elegant comeback.

"Oh come on!" The male sounded genuinely upset at this point. Not that he was on the brink of tears or anything, but more along the lines of exasperated. "What do you want from-"

"GUYS!"

There was a pause as Olette and the boy stopped and turned to the auburn-haired girl glaring in their direction

"Christ Kairi, what is it?"

"What exactly is he doing to himself?" The redhead pointed at me, sporting a deadpan expression.

I groaned, bashing my head against the side of my cage some more. I was hoping to have killed myself by the time they noticed I was still killing off brain cells by the bucket load. Sadly, that wasn't the case.

Still, I wasn't going to let them stop me. I was on a mission, god dammit. And nothing was going to stop me. Except for death.

_'Everything I know is a lie. Or everything I think I know. No, everything. No exceptions. None whatsoever. Everything and anything I have ever heard of is a lie.'_ I chanted the mantra in my head as I resumed my attempt to conform the iron bars imprisoning me to the shape of my forehead.

_'You should try and take a deep breath. And you should stop with the head bashing, you're going to start bleeding soon, or worse'_

_'Get out of my head! And I'm perfectly fine with waiting for the 'or worse' part. I'm a patient guy, I'm willing to keep this up until then.'_ I paused thoughtfully,_ 'At least, I think I'm patient. Not that I would know because I CAN'T REMEMBER SH__*T__!'_

"He seems to be attempting to use his forehead as a battering ram." I couldn't see the guy, but I had a feeling he was stroking his chin all Sherrlock-Holmes style. A man after my own heart, "Interesting approach."

"Uh, so yeah, he's not handling things too well. His mind is allll over the place."

head into iron bars was a sign of mental instability. Way to state the obvious, Olette. Next thing you know, she'll be saying I have brown hair and that bashing my skull repeatedly against a hard surface is bad for my health.

"No, really?"

God, I was starting to love that silver-haired bastard. It was like he was the one reading my mind.

"God, can you stop being a little bitch for like five minutes?" Olette snapped. Ooh, touchy touchy, somebody was riding the red tide. "That's all I'm asking. Just keep your fat mouth shut and let us girls talk to - Hey, I heard that, you pig!"

"Hey, no mind reading without permission!"

Ah. That was a ground rule? I'd have to remember that the next time she tried to go poking around the ol' noggin. Not that there's really much worth looking at in there anyway. It was probably mostly cobwebs, dust, and old pornos I'd seen during the first few years of puberty.

"Stop thinking so damn loudly and we won't have that problem, now will we?"

"Well I wouldn't have those thoughts if you would stop being such a - "

I really wanted to hear what he had to say. Alas, the redhead had to go an intervene. I shook my head and frowned, turning my attention back to my prison bars. I was losing focus, dammit. Back to caving my skull in!

"Okay you two, that's enough, you're upsetting him even more."

"Fine, Kai, I'll stop. For you."

Aww, touching. If he was trying to hit on this "Kai," then this guy was the worst flirt I'd ever encountered. I'd have to give him pointers when he joined me in the afterlife.

"I'm so flattered." And there was that deadpan voice again. Man, I loved that voice. It was always good to hear somebody who shared my love of sarcasm.

"Stuff it boy, I'm pissed at you too." Boy? Man, these girls weren't kidding around. I was starting to think I should be more scared of this girl than the one who was poking around in my head. "Should we try and stop him?"

"I mean, probably, yeah."

Ha! You just keep on trying. I'm stubborn as hell, and I never give up. I think.

"Try communicating with him again?"

"He didn't like me rummaging around in there, kicked me out." Damn straight I didn't. Nobody goes rooting around in my head, not until I know what the hell is up there myself. That's common courtesy, dammit.

"He blocked you out? Wow." The silver-haired teen let out a long, low whistle.

"Yeah, I was surprised too. If I try again, I'll have to fight to get in, and he doesn't need any more brain damage than he already has."

"Isn't that worse than saying he's retarded?" The boy shot back almost immediately, a hint of smugness visible in the wry grin he bore.

"Riku, I swear to god - Look, Kairi, you have anything that'll calm him down so we talk?" Olette said to her female companion. You could almost hear the desperation in her shaking voice.

"Well... not really, unless you want him to see start dry humping the bars on his cage."

Um, what?

Olette seemed to be on the same train of thought as me at that point. "What? I said calm him down, not turn him into some kind of sexual deviant."

The redhead crossed her arms and raised a slender eyebrow skyward. "Aphrodisiacs are best if you're looking for drastic behavior modification. With the dose I'd have to give him, he'd basically become a penis with arms and legs."

Um. Ew.

"Ew." Once again, Olette seemed to voice my thoughts aloud. I couldn't help but wonder if she was reading my mind… of course, I could barely read my mind at that point. Everything was looking kind of hazy.

"Hey, you'd probably like it, sicko." The male's voice rang out again, accompanied by a chuckle or sorts.

"Dear god Riku, it-it's like you don't listen, I don't understand!" Olette was practically foaming at the mouth. I didn't envy the boy's position right now; last thing I wanted was the girl with telepathic powers angry with me. Who knows what she could do up there to a guy?

"But I want to help! Honest!" yeah, he didn't sound so honest. The whole chortling and smirking bit made it hard to believe him. "If he kills himself, this place is going to smell terrible for weeks. I don't want to deal with that."

The other brunette seemed to agree with that sentiment. "Fine, out with it. This better be good."

"I say we just let him keep doing that until he works it out. Self-mutilation works wonders for the psyche, I hear."

I suddenly found myself wondering if this guy was a tad psychopathic as well. Wouldn't surprise me. Everyone in this hell-hole seemed to be a little bit crazy. Hell, maybe I was crazy too.

"Riku!" came the redhead's indignant cry.

"Hey, it might take care of that problem with his face, too. No girl is going to want to touch him with a mug like that."

"Asshole!" It was Olette's turn to shout, apparently. They really should have lowered their voices. All the shouting was not helping the kid going through a complete mental breakdown not ten feet away from them. AKA yours truly.

"What? I didn't tell him to go and cut himself, did I? Don't paint me as the bad guy here I'm just trying to lighten the mood!

"Stop. Talking." The redhead's voice came at a slow and deliberate pace. "How's insulting him going to help at all?"

"We're guys, you wouldn't understand." He shrugged his shoulder and gave a sort of half-grin.

"I have been inside plenty of male heads, thank you very much. And they all do not work that way!" Olette was still raging over his earlier comments. If this were a cartoon, she would have exploded into thousands of tiny, bite-sized pieces by now.

"I bet those guys had their heads in you, too…" The boy drawled under his breath.

"WHAT?"

I groaned and fell backwards. My head was throbbing in agony, but even that wasn't enough to drown out the ensuing explosion between Olette and the silver-haired guy… Rikku, was it?

Screw it, I was too tired and dizzy to remember.

And meanwhile, the redhead sat in the cage between them, futilely pleading with them to calm down in a quiet voice.

And they still had wings.

God. Flipping. Dammit.

Why can't reality just make sense anymore?


	3. Chapter 2

_- Two -_

"Add five hundred."

I could practically feel my eyes bulge out of their sockets as that mechanical, dispassionate voice filtered through the room's speakers. My knees were buckling under the sheer weight that was piled atop my shoulders. My shoulder burned in protest with an intensity rivaling that of the sun, skin drenched with enough sweat and tears to fill up one of those cheapo inflatable pools that kills off all your grass after a week or two.

"Five hundred? Sir, don't you think that's a little much?"

I breathed a sigh of relief. Well, less of a sigh and more of a desperate gasp in a futile attempt to fill my lungs back up. Nevertheless, I felt a pang of relief deep with my core, a spark of hope against the overwhelming odds stacked against me.

"Did I ask for your opinion?"

And then I felt my resolve shatter into thousands of tiny, bite sized pieces. What had just been relief was quickly transforming into a hysterical panic, drowning out the voices of reason and hope that were whispering encouragement into my ears. My short, desperate gasps for air were becoming quicker and even shallower.

"No sir, you didn't."

"Please, no," I gasped out with what little breath I had managed to secure. "No more, I… I can't."

For a moment there was silence.

"Adding an additional five hundred pounds, sir."

I opened my mouth to protest, to shout, to scream for mercy, to heave a long repressed sob. If I could, I would have thrown myself at their knees and kissed their god damned feet for so much as a lousy five minute break.

But no matter how hard I tried, no matter how desperately I attempted to voice my panicked thoughts, no words would come. There simply wasn't enough air in my lungs to fuel my voice, nor was there enough oxygen to bring reason to my mind. I was like a deer caught in the headlights, a soldier struck dumb in the field of battle. I knew what I had to do, what I wanted to. I was just physically incapable of it.

_Clunk._

My heart stopped for a hairsbreadth of a second.

A moment passed.

Then another.

An all-too familiar burning sensation spilled out from my stomach and flooded every fiber of tissue just as I began to crumple under my burden.

I could hear my heartbeat just as well as I could feel it, the organ pounding away at a tempo no musician could ever hope to keep up with. Amidst the white spots plaguing my vision I bore witness my tanned skin slowly changing. At first it took on a vivid pink hue. But as the burning spread it deepened, bypassing crimson and going straight to a deep purple coloration.

I felt the spark humanity buried away ignite once again. Time almost seemed to slow down as my peripherals blurred, drops of sweat rolling off my chin and falling in slow motion. Sanity returned as hot, sticky air filled my lungs to their full capacity. I stood stall, bearing my burden with strength enough to tear loose limbs and blow holes in metal.

I looked up to the scientists observing me from behind a pane of glass. The taller of the two observed me with a cold, calculating expression, one that didn't change in the slightest when I shot him a weary, pitiful, pain-ridden look.

"Another."

I felt my stomach drop all the way down to my feet. _'Oh hell no.'_

"Sir? I don't think-"

"Do I pay you to think, doctor?" I heard the subordinate let loose a sigh of defeat.

"No, sir. Adding another five hundred pounds now."

A moment later, every fiber of my being was screaming in tandem.

A desperate, primal cry resonated within the confines of my mind, brought about by vicious, unadulterated pain on a level I had never dreamed of encountering. I couldn't think. Any rational thought and silent pleas for mercy I had managed to hold onto for the last five minutes melted away into nothingness.

There were only my body's cries of agony, begging me to stop, to break free of the restraints binding this burden to my back and to run free. And even that was soon drowned away by white hit, searing pain that washed away the faintest vestige of rationality.

I stood, for how long I don't know. It could have been anywhere between a day and a fraction of a second, for all I knew. But for however long it was, all traces of my humanity were washed away by roaring waves of agony, pounding into me over and over again. Only my most primal instincts were keeping me going at the point. My body was obeying muscle memory and panic as opposed to my weary pleas for an end to this hell.

The ungodly strength I was forced to call upon wasn't just keeping more than a full ton of metal from killing me. It was tearing me apart from the inside out, killing me all the same.

Eventually I could feel my body stumble under the crushing l weight, dropping to one knee with a solid thud that would have an ordinary man entire leg. My spine and joints creaked in protest, locking up under the ungodly pressure placed atop them. Pinprick jolts shot through my nerves as strands of muscle began to tear loose from my bones.

My vision dissolved into nothing but white and black spots.

My heart paused for a moment. Then another. And another.

Seconds passed, and still, it remained motionless.

"He's spiking!" The voice box fused to the cinderblock walls cried out, its words somehow filtering through to my mind. I heard a note of panic in its static-ridden tone.

"Give him some more time," the deeper voice snapped in an icy tone. "He might still be able to adapt.."

My other knee slammed into the flooring. It broke through the ceramic, chunks of tile embedding themselves deep within my flesh and bone. The black spots obscuring my vision began to expand.

"Look at his vitals, there's no way he can recover from this! He can't produce adrenaline in this state!"

"I said we wait!"

I fell forward, my hands and arms instinctively reaching out and bracing my fall. Something in my person let out a distinctive crack that echoed throughout the room like a gunshot. My lungs refused to cooperate anymore, instead opting to hack violently in an attempt to expel the foul air permeating the room.

"Remove the weight, call for medical assistance."

"Right away, sir! We have a code five twenty five in progress, repeat, code five twenty five, requesting immediate medical extraction and…"

And suddenly I was weightless.

My limbs buckled once and gave away, my body dropping to the ground like a stone. My face was submerged in a pool of sweat mixed with a fine layer of dust. Bubbles of air broke free of my mouth and exploded atop the salty liquid's surface.

Darkness was overwhelming my senses. I couldn't feel my lungs hacking in protest as they attempted to inhale filth-ridden perspiration. My eyes gazed upon nothing but blackness and emptiness. The only feeling I still retained remained in the tips of my fingers, which were pressed up against a floor slick with warm moisture.

Strong, clawed hands flipped my limp form onto its back, and darkness stretched its long shadow over my consciousness.

I woke up strapped to a gurney, various tubes pumping various fluids into my bloodstream lodged into my flesh. A catheter was forced down my throat to help me breath, and I ached in places I didn't even know could experience pain before.

But I was alive. Wonder of wonders!

You know, moments like these are what make me think that life is some sort of giant test. For what, exactly? Beats the hell out of me.

Maybe this was God's way of testing my strength as a virtuous individual, so that I might one day pass through the pearly gates and float around on top of a cloud with my ancestors. Of course, when you really stop and think about it, that doesn't really seem like a good option.

Or maybe it was just some med school graduate's whack job little science project, wherein I was the guinea pig being poked with needles and scalpels. Well, technically I was being cut open by scalpels, but whatever. Thus my life was a literal test, a trial for whatever-the-hell they were trying to do with me.

I imagined myself as Captain America again and had to suppress another giggle.

Whatever the case was, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that life wasn't exactly peachy for me right now.

Two weeks had passed since I'd first woken up in this putrid hellhole. And to be completely honest, not much had changed compared to that first day. Every day pretty much went the same way wake up, each a bowl of slop, test, go to surgery if necessary, more testing, more surgery if necessary, yet another round of testing followed by, shocker, another round of surgery if something went wrong.

And I was in surgery a lot. In the two short weeks I'd spent here, I'd found myself on an operating table roughly every other day. Some days were better than others; some had been much, much worse. Usually it was a couple of fractures or abrasions that landed me on top of a cold, metal slab. Twice, though, I'd had my ass thoroughly handed to me by god-knows-what mutant household pet they'd decided to sick on me.

And let's not forget the daily psyche evaluation to top off this day of pure, unadulterated fun. Which was where I happened to wake up. The Heartless unstrapped and unceremoniously dumped my limp form on the ground. I pulled myself into the chair I'd fallen next to just as the door behind me slammed shut.

"Hello!" Demyx the psychologist looked at me from behind his rolls of fat and golf-rimmed glasses. He was beaming and happy and obviously trying to make me feel comfortable. And I really just wanted to punch him in the face.

This guy had tried to get me to talk about my feelings and whatnot every time we met. I usually just ignored him and stared off into the distant corner. Occasionally I'd give him a mournful look and open my mouth as if to say something. But I would just stick my tongue out and flip him the bird.

It was totally worth it. The guy's face could turn an interesting shade of purple, which made the experience even more memorable. I always wondered if I'd give him a stroke one day.

"…-or? Seventy-XV? Are you listening?"

I gasped and straightened up in my seat, a voice tearing me away from my reverie. The man across from me met my gaze with his beady, black eyes, fingers twirling around the perfectly curled ends of his mustache.

And it was an awesome mustache. Sort of Colonel Mustard-ish. If this guy wasn't an evil sob, I'd have totally let him know this by now.

"Seventy-XV, come now, stop being stubborn." I narrowed my gaze, wondering if I could burn holes in his head if I started at him for long enough. Laser vision would be a pretty neat thing to play around with. And all things considered, it wasn't that big of a stretch to imagine me having it. "You're being ridiculous, you know."

I frowned and relented, choosing to speak for the first time since I'd been shoved into his cozy little office half an hour ago. "I think I'm going to have to disagree with you there."

"If you would please, call me Doctor Demyx. I would appreciate it. I didn't graduate top of my class just to have an adolescent trample all over my professionalism."

I glanced to the diploma proudly displayed on his elaborate wooden desk. _'MIT?'_I would have been impressed, had I actually cared. Honestly, I would have been impressed with the entire damn office. All the furniture and paintings looked pretty damn expensive.

He was in for a disappointment, if he was expecting respect on my side of the equation. He probably should have known by now I wouldn't listen. Actually, he probably did know. More than likely, he was just trying to antagonize me. And it was working pretty damn well.

"Bite me," I snapped back, venom practically dripping from my tongue.

He chuckled a bit, "When was the last time you showered, exactly? I feel like I might catch something if I do."

Oh, now it was official, this guy was an ass. M y last shower had been roughly two days ago, which meant there was time for two days' worth of dirt, sweat, and miscellaneous bodily fluids to build up on my skin. And that was far from a comfortable shower, if you could even call it that. They just handed me a bar of soap and drenched me with ice cold water from the end of a garden hose.

"You're a penis."

"And you're angry," he pointed out, as if it were some sort of revelation. "And childish, it would seem."

Oh wow, two thumbs up for being able to point out the obvious. I could already see this guy had been at the top of his class in med school. Only a trained psychologist could discern anger from scowling, crossed arms, hunched and shoulders. The blatant insults might have clued him in as well.

"You aren't making this any easier by refusing to cooperate, you know," he gave me a knowing look and toyed with the rim of his golden spectacles.

I had to laugh at that. It was a sharp, disbelieving bark of amusement, one that made Demyx's gaze harden, "Are you seriously trying to say that telling you all about my feeling will make things better?"

"Those were my thoughts almost verbatim."

I slouched back in the wooden seat, drumming my fingertips against the warm mahogany supporting my arm. "I doubt pouring my heart out to you will make it hurt any less when something tries to take a chunk out of my calf."

"True, but-"

"But nothing," I interrupted and started to push myself up out of the chair. "We're done here."

"I can make everything else easier for you. Better food, better housing, and better treatment in general as long as you cooperate." I gave another bark of laughter, treating him to the most insincere smile I could possibly muster up. His left eye twitched ever so slightly. I could already see his face beginning to darken from its usual rosy hue to an absolutely ravishing shade of violet.

"It's true," he smirked. I got the feeling I wasn't the first he'd attempted to bribe with this knowledge. "I have a lot of pull with Superior, I can arrange for more hospitable treatments."

Hospitable?

Oh, that was a good one. Without a doubt one of the funniest things I'd heard all day. I fell back into my chair with a thud.

"Good try. If that's the case, why doesn't 'Superior' come down and talk to me in person?" I couldn't help but add the sarcastic inflection to the man's title. Who called themselves Superior? Honestly, this wasn't some sort of crappy sci-fi movie, it just sounded pompous. 'Director 'or 'President' would have been much better suited for whatever his job entailed.

Demyx shot me an affronted, incredulous, as if I'd just asked why his hairpiece was on sideways. "He doesn't need concern himself with-"

"He doesn't _need_ to concern himself?" It was my turn to sport the affronted, incredulous look.

"That's correct."

"Oh, so he has more important things to do then meet the kids he's torturing for his personal amusement?" My eyebrows rose upward, practically hidden beneath my sagging bangs.

"He doesn't enjoy using live test subjects"," Demyx replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "None of us do."

"Except Luxord," I mumbled under my breath, shuddering as what I'd dubbed the blond man's 'molesting grin' popped up in my mind's eye.

"Please call him Dr. Rosen. I admit he is… eccentric, but I highly doubt he actually enjoys his work," He grimaced, looking a bit unsure of himself. God to know that not everyone here was a fan of the psychotic blonde's 'eccentricities.'

"Him along with every other person in this dump," I mumbled under my breath. The good doctor across from me played deaf and continued on with his little tirade.

"We do what we do here out of necessity. His job is… regrettably necessary," he almost sounded apologetic at this point, as if trying to justify everything that I had been through. "If there was another way-"

I held up one hand, massaging the bridge of my nose with the other. "Okay, okay, I'm just going to stop you right there."

Demyx frowned. "I'd much rather you let me finish-"

"Shove it," I snapped. "Necessity? Is that really what you're going to try and sell me here? Because I'm not buying it for one second."

The good doctor's eyes glazed over with something akin to fury, "As a professional, I can tell you firsthand that my coworkers and I-"

"Seriously. Stop. Talking. Every time you open your mouth the room smells more and more like bullshit."

The man's mouth snapped shut tight, the twitch having transferred over from his left eye to the right. He was a lovely shade of purple now, complete with veins bulging out on his forehead and around his temples.

"What part of any of this is necessary? Why are those things," I gestured to the door, where the two Heartless stood guard on the other side, "so important?"

"They are a vital stepping stone in determining the-"

"And why am I so important? I get it; I can do some freaky shit. Does that justify locking me up in a cage every night and beating me senseless?"

The man's lips were pursed shut. His wild eyes looked like he wanted to retort, but mercifully he kept his mouth shut. Good, I wanted to finish.

"Whatever the hell this little operation is you have going on here, its freaking ridiculous! Who the hell are you doing all of this for? The military? Terrorists? Canadians?"

I paused, realizing I had stood up out of my chair at some point during my little rant. I sat back down and folded my arms across my chest. The purple-faced man across from me blinked a few times, charcoal-colored eyes looking at me thoughtfully.

"You had better watch who you say that to," he intoned in a low voice. "Others might not be as forgiving as I am."

"You still didn't answer my question." My fingers curled into tight, shaking fists.

"I don't think it's any of your concern." His voice was still low and dangerous, carrying a vaguely threatening undertone.

My response consisted of rolling my eyes and once again staring off at the dust bunnies nestled in the corner of the room. '_Next time something tries to chow down on my intestines I'll be sure to say please and thank you, if that's the case.' _Maybe I would try it. Hey, no harm in trying. Well, except for the chowing down on my intestines bit.

"You don't know what we've been trying to accomplish here," Demyx continued, talking in a loud and cheery voice as if nothing had just transpired.

_'Well, then feel free to enlighten me,'_ I screamed inside my head. I did my best to maintain a scowl directed solely at the wall.

"It's because we've had so many successes with people like you that Superior gives us a little leeway." Ha, really? Understatement of the century much? With all the slack this guy had given the people on his payroll, he could have hung them all. Including himself.

"Why?" I muttered, curiosity finally getting the better of me. I'd gone too long with too few answers.

"Why, what?"

Oh, now he was just trying to antagonize me. I could hear a note of smugness in his voice, a faint whisper of superiority. Still, I clenched my teeth together and let my moment of indignation pass by unnoticed. "Why is he so interested in me? In us?"

"I think that should be obvious by now." I shook my head. He frowned, "has no one explained anything to you yet?" I shook my head again. "Ugh. Stupid lab workers. They were supposed to brief you when you first arrived, though I suppose under your condition that was asking a little much."

Yeah, it was probably pretty hard to brief someone who was unconscious.

"You should ask one of them. I haven't been briefed on your capabilities." My inner skeptic forced me to raise an eyebrow, "Well, not officially, I've just seen video recordings of you sessions and heard tidbits through the grapevine. From what I've gathered, you have an ability to elicit an elevated fight-or-flight response."

"Eh?" was all the clever response I could muster. Demyx massaged his doughy forehead, muttering under his breath.

"It's like this. Whenever you find yourself in a situation where your flight-or-fight response is activated, you have the potential to release extremely high concentrations of adrenaline."

"Oh." Well, color me confused. And here I thought they had just been slipping steroids into my food and injecting me with experimental drugs in my sleep. "And that means what for me?"

"Don't ask me, I'm just a psychologist," he smirked that smug, infuriating smirk of his and turned his gaze down towards his clipboard. "From what I understand, it allows you to perform superhuman feats of strength, which I'm sure you've noticed by now."

Oh yeah, the face-ripping thing. I thought that had been a little weird.

"That's it?" I couldn't help but ask. I was trying to think back to health class when we went over the stupid flight-or-fight response, but it was all a bit hazy. I chose a bad day to slack off, apparently.

"If you were an average person you would most definitely be dead by now. That much adrenaline would probably make your heart explode. But you," he paused to gesture towards me with open palms, "you are unique. Your physiology can handle adrenaline levels that would could an ordinary individual in a heartbeat. Of course, you have your limits-"

I suddenly flashed back to earlier.

"But as of yet, we're not sure what those are. That's why you're here. And that's why Superior very much has an interest in you," he finished without missing a beat.

I wanted to ask him more about the adrenaline thing, but the look on his face told me I wasn't going to be learning any more about it. I sighed dejectedly. "And the others?"

"The others?" Demyx frowned, tapping his lower lip with a long, chubby finger, "Oh yes, yes, the others. He's just as interested in them as well, although as the newest addition you're receiving more of that attention as of late."

I frowned this time. "If I'm such a star, why hasn't he stopped by to see me?"

The doctor hesitated, his words stuck in the back of his throat. "He has… other duties to attend to."

I rolled my eyes. "Like what, exactly?" Stealing candy? Eating babies? Pedophilia? Those all seemed like pretty valid options on a guy who authorized this shady organization.

He shot a disapproving glare my way, lips curling downward into displeasure. "I don't think I'm at liberty to say," he shrugged his shoulders apologetically. My face was quickly buried in my hands, muffling a scream of frustration,

"So then we're back at square one then," I mumbled between calloused fingertips and bandages, ignoring the layers of filth and grime now smudged over my face.

"Seventy-XV…" He looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to continue speaking. "Seventy-XV?" I gritted my teeth a bit harder. I could feel the enamel scraping together, sending bolts of pain up along my jawline. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Ah, there it was. I had been wondering why this man was actually taking the time to answer my questions. Sure, they were halfhearted answers at best, but it was still more than anyone else working in this place had bothered to give me. He was just trying to make me comfortable with him, hoping that I would finally open up and spill out my deepest, darkest secrets and desires at his feet

"My name," I snapped, feeling a slight rush as my temper finally peaked, "is not Seventy-XV!"

He regarded me passively. His hands intertwined in his lap, his face perfectly relaxed. "My name is not a freaking number!" I continued to rage, unaware of the slightly pinkish hue my skin had taken on. But I felt my vision splinter, taking in every minute detail about Demyx's distinctively pig-like face. I could see everything, from the tiny scar from shaving on his upper lip to the hair follicles beginning to poke through the skin between his eyebrows.

"Then what is your name?" The man snapped back, his fat face contorted into a sickeningly triumphant grin. My eyes fall back to the floor, and I felt my vision return to normal in a rush. I didn't answer. "My point exactly. Now calm down."

Two weeks and still, nothing. I could only recall faces, never the name, never a memory linked to it other than vague recognition and a momentary surge of emotion that always left me feeling drained. My own name still eluded my mind's grasp.

I glanced over at the side of my leg. There, emblazoned in black ink for the entire world to see, was a number code: '4-XV.' It took up most of the left-hand side of my calf. They had slapped it on the limb a few days after I first woke up.

"As long as you have that tattoo, you'll be referred to as Seventy-XV." I glared at the marking, wondering if I could maybe just cut the dyed skin off. "And I know that look. Don't go trying to remove it. We'll just give you another one in its place after the skin graft takes."

"Fine," I hissed venomously, "Are we done here?"

"Not yet. You felt it just now, didn't you?"

I faltered, looking down at my trembling hands. I had.

"I would advise you not use it outside of the lab. Not just for our safety, but yours as well." I cocked my head to the side questioningly. "Look at it like this. Even with your unusual tolerance for adrenaline, it will still damage your body given enough time."

I grumbled an obscenity under my breath. Demyx pretended not to notice.

"Until we know the extent of your abilities, it's best to reserve them for use only in the lab. For all we know, you power might be taking years off your life, or have a time limit of some sort."

"Fine," I hissed again. I hated to admit the man was right. Loathed to, actually. But he had a point. "Can I leave now, or what?"

"Oh, I'm not holding you here. You can leave whenever you feel you're ready."

I stood up and kicked the chair back, stomping my way to the door.

"Oh, and one more thing?"

My hand was resting on the door handle when I paused, tilting my head ever so slightly in his direction. "Don't forget, eight o'clock tomorrow evening I want to see you back in here. Don't disappoint me."

I flipped him the bird for what was probably the eighth time that week and stormed out, his indignant sputtering ringing in my ears.

Man, that never got old.

"You look like hell, kid."

I shot the male across from me a glare as I shifted around in my cage, trying to find a comfortable position. My hands rubbed where razor-sharp claws had held onto my arms moments ago in an attempt to remove the deep indentations they had left.

"And you look like Princess Dianna," I shot back, although there wasn't really any heart in it. I was too tired to play the witty response game with the other teen, too sore to be willing to think up insults to pass the time.

Riku's smirk was barely visible in the darkness. "Well, I'm flattered and all, but-"

"After the crash," I continued without missing a beat, opting to inspect my nails. The white-haired boy snickered, covering his mouth with an open hand to keep his voice down.

"Oh come on, really?" A higher-pitched voice chimed in with a disapproving attitude. "That's just in poor taste." I rolled my eyes and waved a hand in Olette's direction.

Riku beamed. Apparently he shared the same opinion as me on the subject. "Hey, I thought it was well played. Give the kid some credit."

It had been two weeks since I first arrived in this little hellhole. There were only a few things that had managed to keep me going. The first was an overwhelming desire to piece my memories back together; like hell I was going to let someone off me while I had no idea what my name was. If I was going to die, I was going to die knowing I had people who cared about me to leave behind.

The second were the three individuals whom I'd been rooming with for the duration of my stay. Of course, imprisoned was a better term to describe our circumstances, but that just sounds so damn depressing.

Take Riku, for instance. He was the oldest out of all of us at the age of nineteen. He'd been stuck in the Institute for as long as he could remember, all the way back to his toddler years. He' been beaten, stabbed, electrocuted, and operated on more times than he could possibly hope to remember, had been through enough stress to turn his hair a natural shade of white… and he was still the funniest guy I'd ever met.

He was always grinning, and always seemed to have a crappy joke on hand for every occasion. He had taken a particular liking to me upon discovering my natural flair for witty sarcasm.

"Still, you shouldn't joke about that kind of thing," Olette scolded. I could feel her disapproving presence in the back of my mind, just enough to make me feel a little bit bad about what I'd said.

Olette was about my age, as far as I could tell. She'd ended here after her foster parents' home burnt down around her ninth birthday, and as far as she was aware said foster parents had died in that same inferno.

She seemed nice enough. Very smiley, kind of mother-like at times. She liked to call herself the voice of maturity amongst the four of us, and honestly, it made sense. Riku was just a big, goofy kid in a young man's body, and I was… well, I mean, I don't exactly take a whole lot of things seriously.

The mind reading thing still had me weirded out. My most private of thoughts were basically hers for the taking. Thankfully she didn't seem to make a habit of rooting around for dirt on someone, although I wouldn't be surprised if she just kept all those juicy secrets to herself until she needed something.

Oh god, I hope she hadn't done that. I'd been having some weird dreams lately… hopefully she didn't feel like sharing them with

. I might not survive the fallout.

"I'll keep making the joke until the media stops milking the poor girl's death for all it's worth," I shifted around a bit, looking for a way to stretch out my legs in vain.

"It's been, what, ten, twenty years?" Another female voice rang out in the darkness, just as her face came forward and appeared from amidst the shadows. "I'm sure they've let it go by now, right?"

And lastly, there was Kairi. About my age too, very sweet, but definitely more willing to lay down the law than Olette was. She'd been taken from her small country farmhouse by a small army of heartless while in middle school, and had been here ever since.

She had an air of confidence about her that didn't really match up with her petite size. In fact, she was more than capable of scaring the three of us within an inch of our lives, in the event one of us did something incredibly stupid. Some who didn't know her might call her a bitch. Hell, I did too, at first. Still do, now that I think about it. I just use the term a little more affectionately than most.

I'd discovered the reason why she was here a few days ago. She had these glands on her wings – yes, the god damn wings, I still twitched a bit whenever I saw them – that she could secrete various hormones from. She'd demonstrated on me at my request, which I quickly discovered was a mistake. I went from incredibly, ungodly horny to absolutely furious, and then to dead asleep within the span of a minute.

You'd think by now I'd have learned not to mess with her. Sadly, nobody ever said I learned from my mistakes.

"Actually, you'd be surprised," I stated in a bland sort of tone. I really wasn't that interested in conversation's topic. But hey, talking to these guys was better than talking to Demyx or… Luxord. I shuddered involuntarily at the mere thought of the psychopath's name.

"Seriously?" Kairi's expression was an odd combination of agitation and curiosity rolled up into one rather bemused look.

"Oh yeah, you know the media, can never get enough of famous people dying." I hissed involuntarily as one particularly sore sport on my back grazed a rough spot on my cage's wire frame.

"Hey, you okay?" Olette's eyes widened in alarm. "You look a little out of it."

"Oh, don't worry about it, I'm fine," I grinned weakly and gave the concerned brunette a thumbs up, both of which were very clear signs that I was, in fact, not fine.

"Really?" Kairi's voice was roughly as dry as the Sahara. Give or take a few cacti, "Because you don't look very fine.

"Hey now, that's just uncalled for. My mommy says I should be a model." I shot a cheeky grin in her direction. At least, I hope my mommy would say things like that to me. Or at the very least, hopefully she didn't beat me senseless on a regular basis, or locked me in a basement for days on end.

"Don't be a smartass, I'm trying to be serious," the redhead shot back without missing a beat. I sighed dramatically.

"And I am too. She even offered to take me to see an agent once." I could actually hear Kairi grinding her teeth together in frustration. It was way too easy to get under the auburn-haired girl's skin.

"Your evading the question is making me think you're not 'fine,' you idiot."

"Really, it's not a big deal. I'll live." I shrugged and leaned back a bit farther, making extra effort to not wince whenever something sore was agitated.

"Now now, there's no need for name calling Kairi-dear," Riku chided. The older boy was still eying me with amusement, eyes crinkled into a discrete smile of sorts. At least he trusted my judgment.

"Scale of one to ten, Olette?" Kairi asked the other girl without taking her eyes off me.

"One and ten being…?" The brunette trailed off expectantly.

"One is perfectly fine, and ten is along the lines of being actively mauled by a grizzly bear." Riku nodded to himself, apparently satisfied with his response. Kairi shrugged her shoulders and nodded in agreement.

"A four, maybe a five," the telepath announced after a few moments has passed. I shook my head, dispelling the tingling left behind by the girl's presence. I was never going to get used to that.

"See? I'm fine, chillax." I laid my head down, folding my hands behind my head to act as a makeshift pillow. Honestly, I just wanted to sleep. I had a long, long day, and had to deal with lots of annoying people. Sleep sounded like a pretty reasonable request.

Kairi wasn't so easily swayed, however. In fact, she seemed even more determined by this piece of information. "What did you do to yourself?"

I frowned. "Hey now, why are you blaming me?

"Because you seem to ask for trouble most of the time," she snapped back. I relented. She had a point, after all. Smartass comments didn't seem to go over very well with most of the people here. "What, did you tick off the guards again?"

"Maybe," I waved a hand around carelessly. "Or maybe I was almost crushed by two tons of metal. Either or, really."

"Are you insane?" Kairi's voice jumped up a few levels in volume. I was impressed. I didn't have the energy to yell after a day like this. I couldn't help but wonder what the whack jobs had these three doing during the day. Maybe they had her drinking coffee for hours on end, or maybe they used her as a guinea pig for new energy drinks.

"That depends. Are you asking me or one of my multiple personalities?"

Riku audibly sighed, burying his face in his hands. He peeked his eyes out from overtop his fingertips and glanced over at me. "Olette, check him out and make sure he's not serious."

I found myself pressed up against the back of my crate in a heartbeat. "H-Hey now, no need for that! I' m fine, really! No need to go digging around up there!" I gave the other brunette the mot pitiful look I could possibly muster.

_'Relax, I'm not going to go poking around again. I know that's uncomfortable,' _Olette's feminine voice rang out through my mind. I sighed in relief, letting my shoulders drop down and the tension leave my body.

'_Thanks, I owe you one.'_

'_Yes you do. How about I cash that favor now and you just tell Kairi what happened?'_

'_Nah, I like the mystery,'_ I rolled my eyes and leaned back downward. I could feel the alien presence scowling, the tingling in the back of my mind intensifying enough for it to be just a little bit uncomfortable.

'_You're such an idiot.'_

_'Oh come now, you know you love me. These past two weeks have been like a dream for you.'_ My face bore yet another cheeky grin, a grin that only widened when I felt Olette's presence disappear completely.

I always win in the end. No exceptions. Except for when I lose, of course.

"Anything?" Riku raised his eyebrows expectantly. Olette shook her head and glowered.

"Nope, just him and his stupid ego." Riku chuckled a bit at that.

Kairi just rolled her eyes. "Figured as much," her voice as snobby as ever.

"Hey now, my ego's not stupid," I pouted and faked a few sobs for good measure. "It's the only thing keeping me from going bat-shit crazy and trying to gnaw my way out of the thing!"

"I could change that you know," Kairi said offhandedly, spreading her brown and white-splotched wings as far as she could within her tiny prison. Which wasn't very far, but it still got the job done.

"I'd really rather you didn't," I muttered, eyeing her wings with distaste. I swear to god, if she sprayed me with something from those things I was going to be damn pissed. Although chances were that whatever she hit me with would make me damn pissed anyway, pissed enough to try gnawing through mental to escape.

Which would have been bad. Especially since each bar had a live power wire running through them that would shock me into a coma if I tried anything. Riku thought to share that with me on the first day.

"No turning him crazy," Riku announced wearily, rubbing his temples with his index fingers. "Honestly, you two are like an old married couple. Do I always have to play babysitter for you both?

"I'm perfectly capable of handling Kairi myself, thank you very much," I told him without breaking eye contact with the auburn haired girl. "She's what, one hundred five pounds of angry white girl? Nothing I can't deal with."

"Then why do you..." Kairi started to say, but stop before finishing her statement. "Oh forget it, you're hopeless."

"And you're pretty," I said without missing a bit.

Kairi's let loose a sigh of exasperation. "Really?" I shrugged

"What? I thought we were pointing out the obvious."

She turned and shot a look at Riku and Olette. "Don't you dare encourage him."

"Oh come on, he's the most fun we've had around in ages." Riku straightened up a bit, "Most of the time they just get really depressed and off themselves after a few weeks."

"Well, I still have plenty of time to do that. Don't want to disappoint anyone," I added brightly.

Suddenly, three sets of eyes were glaring in my direction. I had the decency to lower my head a bit and look a little sheepish. Apparently that joke had gone unappreciated. Very unappreciated.

"Not funny," Olette's voice was colder than ice. Like, liquid nitrogen cold.

"Sorry."

Kairi ran a hand through her hair and pushed it away from her rounded face. "You're still new here, you're trying to adjust, I understand. Believe it or not, I don't enjoy being a bitch to you," I couldn't help but silently scoff at that one. Maybe she didn't enjoy it, but I thought it was a blast. It was nice having someone to banter with in my spare time. "It's just… look, you've been lucky so far. Really lucky."

'_Hell, could have fooled me.'_

_'Shut up and listen._'

"I don't know how you've made it so far in one piece. They've been putting you through tests that we spent years preparing for." My eyes widened a bit at hearing Riku unveil this surprisingly tidbit of information. I mean, I had a little bit of martial arts experience on my side, and then the adrenaline thingy, and I'd just been thrown into the fray. And here I thought I was the only one fighting science project rejects on a daily basis.

"It must have to do with whatever ability you have that landed you here," Olette spoke up, looking at me knowingly. She must have glimpsed a bit of my conversation with Demyx while communicating with me. "We all have our unique skills. I can read minds, Kairi can manipulate emotions, yours must give you some kind of edge when you're fighting."

"I wouldn't know, dunno what my power is supposed to be," I admitted cautiously. I didn't want to tell them what Demyx had said. Not until I knew myself what I was dealing with. I wasn't about to discuss something this personal with people I barely knew, even if they did seem like they were honestly trying to help out. "What about him?" I jerked a thumb towards Riku.

"I can walk through walls," he said. I laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, good one. If that's true, why haven't you just walked out of here?" It took me a second to see his stone expression, and I realized he wasn't kidding. "Oh, you've got to be fucking with me."

"Nope, true story," Riku said in a singsong voice, "I can't phase through anything that's electrified, and pretty much everything in this place is loaded with live wires for just that reason. And don't start bashing your head; we're not done here yet."

I grumbled, relinquishing my grip on the bars and crossing my arms across my chest. "Fine." I paused, "And then there's the flying thing."

Kairi nodded, "Yeah, that too. But that wasn't a natural thing for us. These wings were given to us by force, and our skeletons were made lighter. We even have artificial organs in place of our originals that are lighter and more efficient so we can stay airborne."

I winced at bit at that. They had those things grafted onto them? That had to be uncomfortable. Suddenly I felt a lot more sympathetic towards them, as opposed to overwhelmed beyond all reason. "I'm sorry," I mumbled. I don't know why, but it seemed like the right thing to say at the time.

"Don't apologize kid, it's not your fault," the white-haired teen nonchalantly shrugged. "We just don't want to see another good guy like you die for nothing. Maybe we can help with that."

"Maybe," I mused. Kairi shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, it's not like we can do all that much right now," she paused. "Although we can probably fill him in on what the Institute actually does. He deserves to know that much."

"Seconded," Riku turned towards me, looking me up and down with bright, aqua-blue eyes. "First things first, he needs a name. Just until he gets his memory back, because I'm tired of calling him 'kid' all the time." He grinned a vicious gin. "I vote we call him Debby. Any takers?"

"Yeah, no," Olette kneaded the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

"I think Debby's a pretty name," I said as innocently as possible, though my barely suppressed snickering gave me away.

"Well, what do you want us to call you?" asked Kairi.

I furrowed my brow. I still couldn't remember my name. And the more I thought about it, I couldn't think of a normal name that really fit the bill. Billy? Ethan? Joel? Matt? They all seemed pretty damn lame. I tried some other words too. I was really considering 'Blue' for a while, but that made me feel weirdly akin to a Power Ranger.

I thought up some silly stuff too. The Long Wanderer popped up for some reason, although I had a vague feeling that particular title came from some book or video game I'd encountered in the past. And besides, it made no sense. I was definitely not alone, well at the moment, I suppose. And I sure as hell wasn't wandering around given my current confinement.

I glanced down at my leg, and let a small smile spread across my lips.

Yeah, that would do. That would do nicely.

"You can call me Sev."

Riku chuckled in amusement, his eyes drawn to the same place as mine.

"Creative. Now, Sev, ready for a little story time?"


End file.
